


Come Lay With Me On The Ground

by stormbourne



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Act Seven, Additional warnings to come, Brain Ghost Dirk, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Hiveswap universe, Post-Canon, Rating will change, Slow reconciliation, a lot of Brain Ghost Dirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbourne/pseuds/stormbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after winning, Jake English is having dreams. He's having dreams of his island, but it's different in ways he can't seem to place, and <i>he's</i> different in ways he can't seem to place. He's himself, but he's not himself, and he doesn't understand how both of those things can be true at the same time.</p><p>And all he wants is just to talk to Dirk Strider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Flowers Are Withering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _I'm scared to death that there may not be another one like this_   
>  _And I confess that I'm only holding on by a thin, thin thread_   
> 

When Jake opens his eyes, he's home.

He raises a hand, pushing a few stray hairs out of his face as the wind sweeps over the island. In the distance he can see the massive spire of the volcano, a slight red glow cresting the peak. It contrasts marvelously against the endless blue of the sky, the green of the island, the rich, deep brown of the earth. He wipes sweat from his forehead, smudging the lenses of his specs, but it's nothing that a bit of spitshine won't fix once he has a chance to sit down and get his bearings. It's the middle of summer, or close, and the sun reflects off the water like a glistening mirror.

In the middle of the sky there's a fat, fluffy white cloud. It's shaped sort of like a dog, one of those big, fluffy white ones that he remembers Grandma pointing out to him in books. She used to have a dog just like this, she used to say. She'd always look a little sad. She'd loved that dog. His name was Halley and he was the best hound a girl could have asked for, right up until that monstrous hag speared him through and left him for me to find. A malamute. Maybe part husky. Wolflike and shaggy and massive.

There's a dog exactly like that standing on the ridge of one of the green, grassy hills. He can't see its eyes from here, just the stripe of its tongue, as green as the hills, lolling out of its toothy mouth.

Green.

He's never seen dog monsters on his island before, though he's always wondered if they exist and if they'd be any less horrendous than the other beasties he has to deal with day in and day out. The dog has noticed him for sure and its pure-white tail wags once, a pale banner against the green and blue, and then it starts forward. Jake's instinct, taught by years of bad encounters, is to run, but before he can so much as blink, the forward bound of the dog has turned into something else. Something that sets fire blazing at the inside of his eyes, green as the dog's tongue, green as the hills around him, green as – something that he can't place, that he can't name. And then the dog is right in front of him. Less than a pace away.

A voice he doesn't recognize shouts a word he doesn't recognize, and the beast is upon him. He tries to fight back, but his limbs don't respond and the beast's mouth is open wide, displaying every one of those sharp, jagged white teeth. Its eyes are as green as its tongue. As green as the fire that burned against Jake's eyelids. The beast overwhelms him and he falls backward to the ground, terrified, straining to fight with a body that won't listen.

It licks him.

It's not the lick of a animal sizing up prey -- which is what he's used to, from more scraps with the monsters than he likes to think about. Instead, it's the lick he's watched countless dogs in movies give to their owners. Welcome home, I missed you. Enough that Jake feels like he ought to reward the thing with a biscuit as it keeps licking, furiously, over cheeks full of stubble and a bristly mustache just below his nose and he's beginning to realize something about this is completely wrong even though he doesn't know how or why.

When Jake opens his eyes, he's home.

He stares at the grey ceiling of the house he claimed as his, but the vivid, almost tangible reality of the dream he just had is already fading. Still, he's not sure he can forget that green-eyed dog anytime soon, even though it's probably some sort of jumbled attempt by his mind to piece together his grandmother's – erm, situation – with the life he lived before. Grandmother? Granddaughter? Jade. He settles on Jade.

His phone buzzes on his bedside table and he has to smother the instinctive terror that comes along with it. When he fumbles for the damned thing, it tells him that it's 10:37 a.m., which means this is the latest he's slept in since – ever, possibly. Before the game, for certain. There's a half-dozen missed messages piling up on Pesterchum, though a couple are from after he fell asleep last night. He thumbs through the others as he sits up, feeling his unruly hair poking out at an even stranger angle than usual. One from Jade checking in as to whether today was going to be another alone day. A couple from Roxy. Even one from Jane.

He really tries not to let his heart sink when not a single one of them is from Dirk.

 _I was the one who said I wanted to take some time to think things over,_ he reminds himself. The problem with all of that was that by “some time” he hadn't meant a full dratted month without so much as a squeak. Not even word one. He hasn't even seen Dirk out and about, and it's not like the little town they're living in is that big, either. Roxy estimated it was even smaller than the compound her house had been in, and it hasn't grown a lot during the last month. The carapace folk don't exactly have the benefit of a god of time at their disposal, like the rest of them.

Roxy is asking the same thing as Jade. He opens up the conversation, dallies a bit before he reads it. Combs his hair, phone perched on the sink. Brushes his teeth. And then, when he's finally good and ready, sits back down and answers.

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering  golgothasTerror [GT]

TG: yo jakey  
TG: jakey jakey eggs n bakey  
TG: when youre upsies or whatever give me a ping ok  
TG: jane n callie n me are makin plans and need 2 know if ur comin out into the daylight today  
TG: or if its another “jake english marathons lotr” kind of day  
TG: anyways  
TG: lemme know  
GT: Good gracious rox i was thinking id come along but then you had to go and mention lord of the rings.  
GT: Temptation is a wily mistress and her name is galadriel!  
GT: You know cate blanchett actually won some awards for that even though she got snubbed for the oscar.  
GT: Snubbed!  
TG: jake u are lucky to b talking to the single one of ur friends who knows who galadriel even is  
TG: well janey might know and dirk probably knows all like "theoretically"   
TG: but its not relevant enough of dumb cultural artifacts so it aint like he cares  
TG: anyway imma use my voidy powers to snatch ur attentions back  
TG: all roguish like  
TG: waggles fingers mystically  
TG: wait shit  
TG: *waggles fingers mystically*  
TG: with the asterix for my buddy j e  
GT: *double pistols and a wink!*  
GT: I do say you can hardly waggle those mystical fingers of yours without a few stars flying isnt that right.  
GT: Anyway whats on the agenda for today?   
TG: idk we were gonna just hang out i think  
TG: didnt want u to feel left out  
TG: youve been all like quiet and shy lately and i know thats just the english way but   
TG: i ALSO know the english way is to get worried about nobody else talkin 2 u  
TG: so here i am  
TG: talkin  
GT: Thats mighty fine of you rox and you know i appreciate the thought.  
GT: I mean that with all my heart honestly.   
GT: But i dont think im feeling up to it today?

The phone lingers without a response for more time than seems necessary. Jake has to smother the thought that Roxy's offended. She said she was with Jane and Callie. Maybe she's talking to them. But the silence stretches out and maybe Jake's just grown too much like Dirk, with his endless need to fill even the most comfortable of silences, because his fingers hurry to type out his next message.

GT: Its not about you so please dont think it is!  
GT: Truth be told i just didnt sleep very well and i might crawl right back into the sack for a little more shuteye.   
TG: jake  
GT: We could maybe do something later today instead? Once ive got my head on straight and all you know me rox.   
TG: jake calm down  
TG: its fine  
TG: i was just talkin to callie and jane  
GT: Phew. *wipes forehead with kerchief*  
TG: did you have nightmares? or are u sick as a dog and lying in hopes i wont surprise void up some chix soup for ur ass  
GT: Nightmares might be the best way to put it!   
GT: Though the dreams werent technically all that big of humdingers.  
GT: I dont know roxy id like to just take a little time to think them over is all.  
GT: Youre sure thats all right?  
TG: jake what is all right 4 u is all right 4 me  
TG: were 3 hot girls we can entertain ourselves just fine  
TG: tho youll be missin out  
TG: ;) ;) ;)  
GT: And right disappointed i am to do so!   
GT: Thanks though roxy youre a gem.   
TG: feel better jake

Normally, Jake would leave it at that. Set down his phone, flip through his movies until he finds a winner, and immerse himself in cinema for the rest of the day as he lets the odd dream settle to the back of his mind, eventually to be forgotten entirely. But today ... He chews his lip. His fingers are already pecking out his next message.

GT: One more thing though if you dont mind.  
GT: Have you seen strider around?  
TG: you havent?  
TG: damn im gonna give him hell for u  
TG: hes up and about and has been for a while   
TG: that said i think hes with dave right now so he might be busy

Sometimes, it's been hard not to be jealous of Dirk's brother. It's not even that Jake wants what they have. Dirk attempting to make Jake his emotional pack mule was hard enough even before they were living in a new world together. But he's beginning to feel all right with maybe being a bit of an emotional caddy, instead. Just taking a little of Dirk's load.

He worries a little about Dave, honestly. If Dirk loads him up with expectations and fears anywhere like he did to Jake, then Jake knows it's not exactly a good experience. Still -- it's hard not to look at Dave and think, _he used to go to me with this stuff._

GT: Gotcha rox ill just drop him a message or two and be on my way.  
GT: After so many messages from him back in the game my phone is feeling a little empty thats all.  
TG: um  
GT: Haha just a little joke you know how it is.  
GT: Sorry it was probably sort of in bad taste huh.  
TG: mebbe  
TG: lil bit  
GT: Well in any case ill be off i suppose.  
GT: Send jane and callie my love.  
TG: sure  
TG: jake?  
TG: i know this shouldnt need saying given how it worked out between u   
TG: and trust me ive said the same thing 2 him  
TG: even though he apparently hasnt even talked 2 u  
TG: what a shithead  
TG: but  
TG: well  
TG: try not to be too rough on him  
GT: *crosses heart*  
GT: Scouts honor ms lalonde.  
TG: i dont think u usually cross hearts when u say scouts honor  
TG: oh well who tf cares  
TG: talk 2 u later jakester

Well, and that was that, wasn't it? From here on, it rests on Jake's shoulders. He can't make Roxy go talk to Dirk for him, though apparently she's planning to do just that at some point. He thumbs through his other messages. He can't pester Jane; she's with Roxy and would know immediately what he's really there for. He debates sending her a hello just for the sake of it, but his heart sinks and he decides he'd rather not have to face her assuming that he's only there to talk out his issues again.

A month and he's still scared of that.

He sighs. He can bug Jade later, he decides. Sometimes a man's got to do what a man's got to do. Put his head down and charge on forward. Even though he really, _really_ doesn't want to.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: Howdy strider i do hope im not interrupting anything.  
GT: Dont feel the need to get distracted with me if youre with your brother!  
GT: I just wanted to pop by and say hi today is all.  
GT: Its been a while and i was thinking ...  
GT: Maybe youd like to come over for a bit?  
GT: We could watch some flicks if you like i still have all of your brothers films lined up and ready.  
GT: Erm uh that is.  
GT: Your other brothers?  
GT: This whole family situation has made everything so confusing.  
GT: *Rubs temples*

No response.

Usually by now Dirk would be talking his ear off. Or, well, typing it off. Dirk has never been too softspoken and especially not so in text. Jake hopes that maybe he's just off with Dave, or away from his phone. Shades. Ha, when is Dirk ever away from his shades? He chews on his lip, heart sinking.

GT: I suppose you must be off doing something and thats just fine really.  
GT: But if you see this later today would you give me a ring?  
GT: Its been a while like i said and i just was hoping we could catch up.  
GT: I bet you and your brother have come up with all sorts of rhymes and the like id love to hear.  
GT: ...   
GT: *Rocks on his feet*

Was that really necessary? Now he looks desperate.

GT: Well anyway just let me know if youd like to come around.  
GT: Ill have snacks all at the ready!  
TT: No.

He's expecting the response so little that he jumps. Actually physically jerks a bit in his shoes.

GT: Well thats fine buddy i heard that you were busy with your brother!  
GT: Maybe tomorrow then?  
TT: No, Jake.  
TT: It's a bad idea.   
TT: Enjoy your movies. The Movey was always my favorite if you're looking for a recommendation.  
GT: Okay strider thanks for the tip.  
GT: Talk to you again soon!  
\--  timaeusTestified [TT] is now an idle chum! --  
GT: ... :(

He had expected the no, but he hadn't expected the bluntness attached to it. Dirk has always had blunt tendencies, so maybe Jake should have seen it coming, but as it is ...

He tries to flood out the hollowness. Dirk is probably still upset with him. He'd still be upset, if he were in Dirk's shoes. But even if their conversation on the lily pad was tense and uncomfortable, and even if Jake _had_ requested a little bit of time, he'd hoped ...

Well, what's the use of dwelling on it.

Jake drops Jade a quick message but sets his phone down on his bed before he can see if she's going to reply. Just a simple request to talk and an acknowledgment that he is indeed staying in for the day. He retreats to his shelf of movies -- thank god for still having access to alchemiters -- and shuffles through them. Out of spite or maybe just hurt, he avoids the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff section entirely, even though _THE MOVEY_ is sticking out like the bright yellow, poorly-antialiased Comic Sans it is. He lands on the section where he keeps his favorites, skips over Avatar toward the ones that always get his eyes stinging, and picks up a few, pushing the first into the DVD player without even looking at the label.

Homeward Bound.

This one is more of a cathartic cry movie than much else, but he still settles down onto his bed with a sigh.

Everyone else had wanted to live with people. With their new families. Get to know them. Jake ... Jake had wanted the safety of his little round room back. He couldn't exactly have that, but he did take one of the smaller buildings, keep it all to himself. Some of the others had glanced at him, but Jade had cheerily moved in next door in a house of her own as well, and that had settled it. Close enough that Jake could seek her out when he was feeling alone; far enough that he had his own bed, his own room, his own little house with his things that, when he was feeling overwhelmed, he could retreat to.

Watching Homeward Bound makes him regret it, a little bit. Seeing the warmth of the family living together. The way they love each other, the way they love their pets. Jake thinks about the dog from his dream, green-eyed and wild, and his heart aches. Maybe he can talk to Jade and Roxy about getting a dog. Though it's probably much more complicated to create than even a troll egg.

By the time Shadow is climbing over the hill, he's in tears, and he takes a good ten minutes after the credits roll to just let himself recover. Then it's on to the next movie.

The Time Traveler's Wife.

He's watched this one a lot less, but it still makes him cry. By the end of the movie he's always beside himself with how much they love each other. It's probably a mistake. The more it goes on, the more he's caught up once again in thoughts of how much things went wrong between him and Dirk, and how they might have been able to have something like that if he'd tried harder. That same old fear that he won't _ever_ feel anything that deep, that all-encompassing, surfaces less than half through the movie, and never goes away, watching the leads with what he knows must be envy.

He doesn't take any time to recover from this one. He already knows what the next movie in the row is, and he's already biting down on his lip as Brokeback Mountain starts up onscreen.

He hasn't had anything to eat, aside from a bag of chips he had nearby and chowed down on throughout Homeward Bound. It doesn't matter. His stomach is raw with fear and regret and terror that Dirk will never forgive him and the minute Heath Ledger reaches out for that shirt's collar and says "I swear, Jack," Jake does the unthinkable and doesn't bother to watch the credits.

He whirls around and finds his phone, sitting on his pillow. Tears are streaming down his cheeks and there's definitely snot trailing from his nose and it is probably the least pretty he's looked since he was in prison on Derse. He's half expecting Dirk's stupid brain phantom to pop out of nowhere and deride him for it. But there's no sign of him and that makes him even more upset, because maybe Dirk is so upset with him that even his splinters won't speak to Jake. And wouldn't he just friggin deserve that! Tears drip onto his phone. He doesn't bother to wipe them away. Too busy typing. His fingers are probably flying over the keyboard faster than Dirk's ever did.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: Youre probably not even there but i just had to say it before i let it swim away again just like i always do.  
GT: I dont know if youre still mad at me or if youre always going to be mad at me but if you are id understand dirk i really would.  
GT: But i dont want to just sit here with my thumb up my bum letting it be when its killing me.  
GT: Are we just never going to talk again dirk?  
GT: Is this how everything ends between us?   
GT: Im not saying we have to be gung ho to the max again right away but doesnt it just frigging eat at you?  
GT: Strider.  
GT: Dirk.  
GT: I miss you.

There's no response. Fucking silly to even wait for one. Jake sniffs loudly, wipes miserably at his eyes, and, disgusted at himself, flings himself down into his bed and cries until his eyes are so sore and puffy that he doesn't think he's even physically capable of crying anymore.

His phone's message light is on.

He picks it up, squinting at it with sore eyes. Did he turn off the message noise for his movies? He must have. That, or he's just been crying too loudly to hear it.

TT:   
TT: I  
TT: Miss you too.  
TT: But you have to trust me on this.  
TT: We can't do this right now, all right?   
TT: You'll thank me eventually.   
TT: I'll explain it to you when I can.  
TT: And Jake?  
TT: I'm really sorry.  
TT: For everything.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] has logged off!--

It ought to make him feel better.

It only makes him feel ten times worse.

Sorry! Not sorry enough to stick around and let Jake talk to him. Isn't that just like Dirk Strider, impossible to reach even after the stupid hell game is over and they're supposedly living in peace. He flings his phone down; it bounces on the floor once and then clatters away. Then he throws himself back into his bed and wishes he could just cry himself back to sleep, back to his island, even back to the dream island with the green-eyed dog.

He's too sore and dried up to cry any longer, but he does hiccup and sob his way into sleep eventually.

The dog is there.


	2. Your Leaves Have Drifted Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re furrowing your eyebrows that way that makes them run together,” Jade says. “Don’t tell me it’s even more stupid Dirk stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _I'm sorry every song's about you_   
>  _The torture of small talk with someone you used to love_   
> 

This time, he knows it’s a different day. The sky is cloudier than he remembered it, a few dark thunderclouds threatening at the edge of the horizon. The sun’s at a different spot in the sky.

“Here, boy,” a voice that isn’t his says. The dog comes over from the hillside in one snap of bright green flame, again, but instead of charging him, it simply licks frantically at his hand with its neon tongue. He scratches behind its ears; it whines happily, green-flame eyes closing in happy doggy pleasure. “That’s a good dog,” that voice says. It _is_ his, Jake realizes suddenly. Weathered, perhaps, but it’s coming from him and he recognizes, a bit, some of the rumbling undertones. They haven’t come to fullness for him, yet, but — well, he’s only sixteen. He has that same telltale itch of facial hair, stubble brushed over his cheeks and bristles of whiskers over his upper lip. The fingers scratching at the dog’s fur are weathered and spotted; gnarled knuckles poke out from worn skin, a fine dusting of hair over the back of his hand.

“I’ve got someone to introduce you to, Bec,” he says. The dog’s ears perk, pointing forward, eyes opening as it pulls back from Jake’s hand. “Now, you have to treat her like your own, you hear me? I’m counting on you to keep an eye on the sprat.” 

He looks down. 

There’s a bundle of chubby arms and baby-fat legs and dark hair curled up in his arms, looking up at him with —

He snaps awake to the sound of banging knocks on his door. 

“Jake!” Jade’s voice calls from beyond the door. “Jake. You said you wanted to talk yesterday! Are you seriously sleeping in? I didn’t think you knew _how_ to sleep in!” 

He blinks. Sleep is heavy and sticky at the corners of his eyes and he’s still fully dressed. Complete with shoes. His cheaters are askew, still half on his face, the lenses smeared beyond measure. He has a wicked cramp forming in one of his legs and his toes are curled awkwardly inside of his boots and everything he’s wearing is wrinkled beyond repair. There’s a big red mark around his waist from his belt pressing against his skin. He sits up. His phone is still across the room. His hair is sticking up funny on one side of his head and he grumbles as he climbs to his feet, wiping his glasses on his rumpled overshirt.

Outside the door, Jade is still knocking and calling out to him. He loves Jade — honestly, he does — but sometimes he doesn’t know how to deal with her endless need to fill the silence. It’s just her boundless energy, he knows. It’s different from Dirk’s rambling need to fill up even the most comfortable pauses, and his desperation for a response. 

Dirk.

He tries not to be angry as he goes to pick up his phone. There aren’t any new messages from Dirk on it, though there’s a good ten or so from Jade. All wanting to talk to him, doubtless. 

“I’m awake!” he calls toward the door. “Gimme a jiff, Jade, I’ll be out in two shakes!” 

“Okay!” she replies. The knocking stops.

The clothes are a lost cause. He’ll just tell Jade that he fell asleep in them, what’s the harm. He washes his face, combs his hair quickly. Makes a face at himself in the mirror. Presentable enough, he supposes, and makes his way back to the door to let Jade in. 

Her dog ears are perked and pointed as much as the dog’s were in his dream, but then one folds in — amusement? Confusion? “You’re a mess!” she says. There’s not a single note of attack in her voice, just befuddlement at best. She giggles, showing her buck teeth, and slips in under his arm. He tugs the door shut. Jade settles onto the couch across the room from his bed, peering up at him from behind her glasses. It gives him a flash of deja vu. But it’s gone as quick as it came, and he flops down next to her.

“So,” she says. She drags out the word until it sounds like a question. When his only response to her is a tilted head, she huffs. “What’s eating you!” she adds. “It’s obvious! I mean even when you fall asleep watching movies, you don’t have big blotches around your eyes.” 

“Shit!” Jake curses, raising a hand to rub at them. They hadn’t looked that bad in the mirror. “Are they that bad?” 

“I don’t think most other people could tell,” Jade says. That’s a bit of a relief, though Jake isn’t sure he’s up to going out and facing the world today, either. “But I can. I know you! And also, you sort of smell like salt, and I guessed that meant you were crying?” 

“Friggin dog instincts,” Jake mumbles. Jade just watches him patiently. Sometimes when she doesn’t talk is worse than when she does. She really does know him too well, which means she knows that he’ll eventually give in and talk first. “I’m just feeling lousy about Strider again,” he admits. “The scoundrel keeps giving me the runaround and I’m sick of it.” 

Jade puffs out air. Her ears fold themselves back. “I can have Dave talk to him,” she offers. 

Jake waves her off. “Strider said he was busy,” he rationalizes. “And that he’d explain when he could. I figure that means it’s super important.” Jade doesn’t look convinced. “If you knew the guy you’d get it,” Jake promises. 

“I think maybe you’re making excuses!” Jade counters.

“Well, maybe,” Jake allows. “But what the samhill else am I going to do? Stewing about it isn’t likely to get me any response from him sooner. So — better to just — “ He waves a hand in demonstration.

Jade sighs, but seems content to leave it there for now. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” 

_Not really._ If anybody would be able to help him with the dream business, it might be Jade. She has more experiences with the bubbles than any of them, after all, though Jake isn’t even sure if they access the bubbles anymore now that they’re outside of the game. He thinks about the dog, and his island, and the baby in his arms and the wrinkled fingers. 

“Jake,” Jade starts, and he knows if he doesn’t stop her this is going to turn into another Talk About Dirk and as much as he appreciates her thoughts on that, the idea of confronting all of it right now is frankly about as palatable as drinking a mug full of hot piss. But he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about the dreams, either. At least not with Jade. They’re his private, confusing treasures. 

Though he does have an idea on who might be able to help.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he says before she can say anything more.

* * *

UU: i’m afraid i don’t Understand, jake.  
UU: can yoU explain it again?  
GT: Okay.  
GT: Let me put it a little different.  
GT: Or try anyways.  
GT: My dreams lately keep being of my island, but it isnt my island at all. Its somebody elses version of my island but im still there.  
GT: Except im not really me either im somebody else too! Somebody old i think? I dont really remember the details very clearly.  
GT: But its like im just a passenger on the worlds weirdest rollercoaster!  
GT: Somebody else is moving my body and talking with my voice although its still not really my body or my voice.  
GT: But the weird thing is that it feels like it is?  
UU: actUally, jake, this soUnds like something i woUld more expect to hear from dirk!  
GT: Is it now.  
UU: it is fairly completely in line with the heart aspect, in fact.  
UU: the heart aspect is all aboUt yoUrself, and other versions of yoUrself.  
UU: and how the sUm of yoUr parts creates one whole, distinct “yoU.”   
UU: a heart player might easily be able to access alternate versions of themselves!   
UU: but as to why yoU’re able to, if that is indeed what’s happening ...  
UU: to tell the trUth, i am not sUre.  
UU: i’m not even entirely certain why yoU’re asking me aboUt it, to be honest!  
UU: i have my doUbts i am trUly that insightfUl.  
GT: Well i was hoping what with all your causal spoilers and whatnot you might have a bit of insight to this.  
GT: And with what youre saying about the heart stuff it sounds like maybe i was right?  
GT: Dig deep callie are you sure youre not forgetting something?   
UU: jake!   
UU: if anything i think yoU’re the one who’s forgetting something!  
UU: i haven’t had access to my caUsal spoilers for qUite some time.  
GT: Blast it i was hoping maybe it was something youd memorized.  
UU: i am not qUite so savvy. u_u  
UU: that said, there is a sUrprising amoUnt aboUt the mechanics of the game that i still was Unaware, since i was limited to what was recorded in my book.  
UU: so perhaps you are sUbconscioUsly accessing more of your page powers!  
UU: have yoU, erm,  
UU: this will soUnd very silly, jake.  
GT: Fire on away callie im game for anything.   
UU: have yoU been “believing in” these dreams on any level?  
UU: a hope player woUld theoretically be able to strengthen their perception of their other selves by believing in them enoUgh. or even by believing in their own ability to do so.  
UU: especially a page!   
GT: No i cant say thats it.  
GT: Its really impossible for me to have believed in them at all considering they just barely started!   
UU: of coUrse.  
GT: And to be frank im not sure what the heart bollocks has to do with it either.  
GT: I mean as we are both well aware i am not dirk.  
UU: perhaps yoU could ask him about it?   
GT: Wouldnt i just like to!   
GT: But the gits being exceptionally slippery lately and i have a feeling this would be no exception.  
UU: he’s been avoiding yoU? :U  
GT: Just like always. Im beginning to think its the Strider house motto.   
GT: “Youre welcome for me not existing ever in any capacity that could be useful to you.”   
UU: i coUld try to talk to him if yoU like.

For the first time in this entire conversation, Jake pauses. It’s tempting. Dirk would probably be more likely to respond to Callie’s messages than to his own. After all, Dirk has literally nothing to be angry at _Callie_ about. 

GT: Are you really sure its no bother?  
UU: none at all, love!   
UU: while i’m at it, i’ll tell him to hUrry it Up and talk to yoU directly.  
GT: Um ...  
GT: *rubs back of neck*  
GT: Well the thing is callie i think thats going a little bit far about it.  
GT: It might actually make him even less likely to talk to me if he thinks i made you do this?  
UU: oh!  
UU: my apologies, then.  
GT: In fact id be more than grateful if you kept mum about this conversation to the rest of the squad in general.  
GT: Its just a personal thing you know.  
GT: I dont want anybody to worry.  
UU: yes, i see.  
UU: that is certainly reasonable!  
UU: bUt i must say, hUman social mores are very difficUlt to Understand. >:U  
GT: Boy are they friggin EVER.  
UU: still, i’ll see if i can learn anything of merit!   
GT: Thanks callie youre a star.  
GT: I owe you one for sure.  
UU: nonsense, jake!  
UU: what’s one pesterlog between friends?  
UU: ta for now!   
GT: See you around callie. Soon i hope.

He sits back on his bed. Jade, across the room, laying on the shabby couch, is probably intensely aware that he hasn’t been paying attention to _101 Dalmatians_ for at least ten minutes. One of her ears is pricked ever so slightly in his direction. But she doesn’t seem interested in calling him out on it. Even though the dalmatians are all covered in soot and running for a moving truck. 

He glances at the screen, and then — feeling guilty that he’s going to miss the big chase scene — returns his attention to his phone. 

GT: Howdy again strider.  
GT: Dont mind me i just thought id say hi since i missed you last night.  
GT: Its kind of funny isnt it how were making a hobby out of that?  
GT: Just missing each other i mean. 

“Dont suppose youre ready to talk out your big secret,” he types out, and then deletes the line entirely. Too direct. Dirk will never respond to it. Or, he will, but he’ll be an ass about it. 

GT: Its not really that different from how stuff was before the game if you think about it really.   
GT: Anyhoo jade and i are watching some flicks and i wanted to invite you over again!   
GT: Were having a dog movie day weve already watched air bud and were finishing up good old 101 dalmatians now.  
TT: Don’t you think she would find those a little personal?

Holy shit. He seizes on this opportunity. 

GT: She really likes dog movies actually!  
GT: Did you know she used to have a dog?  
GT: Well obviously she did i mean but that was the very same dog she merged with or so she told me!  
GT: So i think the movies remind her of him.  
GT: Its not like she feels like she IS a dog all the time or anything thatd be dumb.

Silence. Jake stares at the blinking cursor. Waits. Glances up at the TV despite himself.

Then, finally.

TT: Jake.  
TT: I really don’t know why you keep bothering me.   
TT: I told you I’d explain later.  
TT: Can’t you just believe in me about this one thing and leave me alone?

_You only ever believed in yourself, you already had this epiphany, remember?_ snaps through Jake’s head in that almost-not-quite Dirk voice that his annoying fucking ghost version speaks in, and Jake grinds his teeth. He remembers how upset he was last night. He feels even stupider for it now, and the tears that came last night are solidifying into a solid, icy core of anger right in the middle of his chest. 

GT: With all due respect sir you can stick it up your rear.  
GT: I thought we were friends dirk and friends tend to friggin invite each other places?  
GT: Julius fucking caesars bleeding ghost strider cant you just take an invitation as what it is?  
GT: Not all of us are you with your sixteen layers of motivations and deeper meaning!  
GT: Maybe i would just like to maybe talk to you once for five minutes?  
GT: I didn’t realize that was so outrageous to ask!   
TT: Oh, come the fuck on.  
TT: There is a roughly one hundred and one percent chance, if you see what I did there, that you’re going to try and worm me into talking about what you think is “wrong” with me right now.  
TT: And here’s the answer, since you’re so determined to get it:  
TT: None of your damn business. 

The cold anger turns hot. From ice to a boiling pot of water, and now it’s not just in his chest, it’s rising up his throat.

GT: Well excuse me princess for being concerned about one of my friends!  
GT: Maybe if hed take those five minutes i asked for to talk to me id be less concerned and he could get right on with his jerky little life!  
GT: But since hes too busy steering away from me and making me talk to brain phantoms and computer chat robots and whatever the hell else sorry i even asked!  
TT: First off, “computer chat robot” is redundant.  
TT: Secondly, we’re talking now.  
GT: Like hell we are!  
GT: Were just talking past each other and you know it!  
GT: Im trying to ask you to be honest with me and youre just dancing around the subject and being a right little pissant about it.  
TT: Great.  
TT: Maybe if I’m being such a pissant, you’ll get rightfully piss _y_ , and leave me alone.  
TT: Like I, you know,  
TT: Fucking asked.  
TT: I will tell you what is going on once I have it well in hand, English.  
GT: Thats the whole stinking problem you guttersnipe!   
GT: Would you just freaking TALK TO ME for once?  
GT: Maybe i could even HELP you did you even think of that?  
TT: Bye, Jake.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] logged off! --

Jake's beginning to sense a pattern with Dirk friggin Strider and his new default response to confrontation, and he sort of _resents_ that Dirk probably learned the fine art of running away from nobody other than his ex-boyfriend.

This time, Jade can definitely tell Jake wasn't paying attention, and she isn’t about to let it sit. 

“You’re furrowing your eyebrows that way that makes them run together,” she says. She’s turned around on the couch and behind her, Pongo is howling along to the piano. “Don’t tell me it’s even more stupid Dirk stuff.” 

When is it ever not more stupid Dirk stuff? But he still doesn’t want to talk about it with her, with a sudden burst of spite that she absolutely doesn’t deserve. Jade is probably the single person who’s either lived on either earth who deserves least to be the target of any spite. But the fact stands: She wasn’t there. If it was Jane — no, he thinks, suddenly guilty. He wouldn’t talk about it with Jane, either. She deserves better than even more Dirk Strider discussion. But if it was Roxy, or ... or even Calliope, well, then he might be willing to talk. But even then, he finds that “might” is fairly iffy. It’s between them. Him and Dirk. Dragging anyone else in feels wrong — even Callie, a bit, though Jake tries to tell himself that it’s more about his dreams than about Dirk avoiding him. 

He casts about for a new subject as Jade’s eyes sear right through him, electric green. The dogs in the movie are barking as the shot pans out. Jade’s eyes are the same color as the eyes of the dog in his dreams. Jade’s ears flick back and forth. 

“Jade,” he says. “Have you ever thought that maybe we should get a dog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god this plot will start moving soon, please bear with me.


	3. Like A Bastard On The Burning Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Used to be,” Roxy continues, clicking coming from somewhere behind the display, “that I’d clone all these frickin’ meowcats using this machine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _I thought we were friends, I guess it just depends who you ask_   
>  _These feelings tend to leave me with a hole in my chest_   
> 

“You’re really sure it’s calibrated right?”

“Jake,” Roxy says, poking her head out from behind the machine, one wire poking out from between her lips, “I’ve only been working with this shit for, like, my entire freaking life? Trust me, I know how to make it work.” Her head vanishes behind the machine again. Jake studies the screen. It doesn’t look that different from the machine in the frog ruins, actually. There’s a field to enter coordinates and a screen that’s cracked and blacked out. But in addition to the transporter platform, there’s something that looks like a laser and a few miscellaneous jars and some odd displays next to it. 

“Used to be,” Roxy continues, clicking coming from somewhere behind the display, “that I’d clone all these frickin’ meowcats using the machine. Couldn’t use the appearifier, since it was locked on my mom. But I’d mix up some goo from my appearifier gun and see what kind of cat I could make. That’s why they all had extra eyes and funny noses and some of ‘em were the size of dogs and some of ‘em were the size of mice and some of the poor things couldn’t even survive.” He’s seen some of those. The ones she keeps on ice, probably. “But I don’t know shit about doing it for just about anything else? And it ain’t like we have a dog around to take DNA from.” 

Roxy’s ramble is actually somehow comforting. She doesn’t expect him to answer. She’s just talking to talk. Dave does that sometimes, too. Dirk kind of does — did, Jake corrects himself — the same thing, but he always wanted a comment. Some confirmation that Jake was listening. Roxy doesn’t need that. She knows Jake is listening, or maybe doesn’t care. 

“In any case, we could probably dig around through the game device shit, like Jade’s frog cloning crap,” she continues. There’s a brief flash of light over the tech screen. “But she’s not completely sure where it is in her tower, since Arquius was all moving shit around to make room for the grist derricks or whatever the fuck those things were.” Jake pokes at some of the bottles. They have a slight greenish cast like they’ve been routinely used, though they’re clean as a whistle at the moment. Leave it to Roxy to make sure that scientific equipment is well-maintained. “My shit is way more accessible. Just in the basement and all that shit.” 

“I’m really glad the two of you are willing to do this.”

Roxy slaps something shut with a loud bang and emerges from behind the console. “Jakey,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes greasy hands on a cloth the color of her Void gear, back in the game. “It ain’t anything, don’t I keep saying that?”

She _has_ been saying that for the past few days, since he and Jade proposed the idea to her. In fact, she leapt on it with even more enthusiasm than Jade did, which Jake hadn’t thought was actually possible. Not even a moment had passed before she’d offered up the lab in her basement. The equipment had gotten a bit in disrepair and there had been — Jake wrinkles his nose as he thinks about it — a frankly gross amount of cat poop to clean up, but now they’ve got it back in working order.

The other thing was to find something they could use as a prototype for a dog. Jade’s the one who said she would handle that, and she’s been gone all morning doing so. And all the last couple days, actually. She helped with cleaning up the lab, but since then she’s begged off. “I have to go find it!” was the only thing she offered, shrinking Jake and Roxy down and leaving them on LOPAN without another word, the white of her worktable stretching out before them like an endless ocean, with LOPAN and the other planets bobbing above it like bath toys. Jade only shows up at the end of the day to bring them all back up to size. 

Which is why it’s a surprise when the portal leading to Roxy’s room lights up and Jade comes leaping out of it. She lands like a heroine from a comic book and grins up at the two of them, teeth sparkling in the dim, greenish light. 

“Found it!” she says. 

“Found what?” Jake asks, because he knows Jade well enough by now to know it’s an invitation. 

“My attic!” Jade said. “It rolled off into LOFAF forever ago, back when it was frozen, so when everything thawed, I sort of lost track of it? I was really worried it sank into one of the lakes, or something.” Her grin widens. Her canines are dog-sharp. Jake is once again relieved that she’s no longer their enemy. “Anyway! It had something that I’m pretty sure is going to help!” 

She fumbles like she’s reaching into her pocket, widens her grin, and decaptchalogues — 

 

_You’ll come with me, won’t you? Me and Halley are making a bolt for it, Joan, love. You’ve got to come along! You know I’m right and plus I’m stinking lost without you. Think of how much happier we’ll be once we’re away from that old hag. She doesn’t treat us right and you know it._

_I’ll be an explorer and you’ll be my navigator! Come along, won’t you come? Please?_

_Please?_

_Joan … I don’t want to leave you here with her. If you insist, then I’ll go, and you can stay. As for me, I can’t stay another dadblasted minute._

_But I don’t want to be alone, either._

 

Jake realizes he’s staring up at the dark ceiling of the complex, and his head is aching. Particularly at the back, where it feels like he’s banged it on something. Dizziness spins around his temples.

“Jake!” Jade’s head pops up over him, her brow furrowed in concern. 

“Is he up?” Roxy’s voice calls. Then there’s the pound of footsteps, and she’s leaning over him, too. Her mouth is pinched in worry. 

“What happened?” he asks. His voice feels thick in his mouth.

“Um, gee, I was really hoping you’d tell us,” Jade says. She and Roxy exchange glances. “You just sort of passed out?” she offers. “I was telling you that I found my attic and you hit the floor a second later!” She shrugs, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Sorry about your head,” she says. “We couldn’t catch you in time.”

He sits up, cradling his head, not liking the way his vision swims and the neon green of the facility floors sears against his eyes. “I thought you could teleport, or whatever?” Jake asks. 

Jade’s ears fold down. Roxy tuts, and wanders back over to the cloning equipment.

“Not since we left the game,” Jade sighs. “That’s why it took me so long to find my attic. I had to look on foot!” 

That … sort of makes sense? Jake remembers her explaining that before. Something about the Green Sun. He can’t think clearly enough right now to remember the details. He curses at the ache buzzing at his ears and lifts his head further.

He freezes when he sees it, and he knows without hesitation that seeing what Jade brought with her is what knocked him out, and that its name is Halley.

A white, almost wolfish dog. A huskie, or a malamute, or a mix of the two. Its mouth is open in a happy doggy smile, teeth and tongue showing, eyes glassy brown marbles. A plaque sits in the middle of the taxidermied animal’s wooden base, but Jake doesn’t need to look at it. He knows this dog. He’s dreamed about this dog. This dog, and one other. 

“Jade,” he asks, as he sits still. Jade climbs back to her feet, offering a hand to him. He doesn’t take it. “What was your dog’s name again?”

“That’s not him,” she says, following his gaze.

“No, I know that.” That’s Halley. Halley has been around since he was born. He’s never owned a dog. He’s always owned a dog. He was twenty-one when Halley died. He isn’t even twenty-one yet now. The conflict of those two things nearly knocks him down for the count again. 

“Bec?” Jade asks. “Is that who you’re talking about?” 

Bec. Yes. That sounds right in a way that resonates through him like a clear chime of a bell. He remembers saying that, in one of his dreams. He takes her hand. 

“I think I’ve been dreaming about your dogs,” he said. “Yours, I mean, and your grandpa’s.” _Mine,_ he could say, because Bec was his before he was Jade’s. He’s never even frigging met Bec. But he has. He found Bec three years after Halley died, when he bought that isle in the Pacific. His head _aches._

“Hey,” says Dirk’s voice, and he looks to the right to see him, clad in full Prince apparel, shaking his head. “Stop thinking about it so hard,” he says. “Heart shit is my thing, remember? You’re going to hurt yourself, if you keep it up.” 

He blinks and Dirk’s gone. 

Roxy and Jade don’t even seem to have noticed him. Which means that it’s Brain Ghost Dirk, back from the confusing mishmash of his mental semi-existence. Jake shouldn’t feel so vindicated by the fact that he’s still there, and moreover still willing to speak to Jake, but it does give him a private little thrill. Though the idea of trying to mentally summon him back up just makes Jake’s head ache even more.

He takes Brain Ghost Dirk’s advice and pushes it out of his mind.

“What do you mean, you’ve been dreaming about my dogs?” Jade asks. Jake uses her leverage to heave himself to his feet.

Jake takes a deep breath.

* * *

GT: I dont suppose you have any good news for me callie.  
GT: Sorry to be a pest its just been a few days and i know i havent been around much. So i want to be sure i didnt just miss something!  
UU: no, jake, i’m afraid i have no news for yoU.  
UU: in fact, if anything, i have even worse than no news!  
UU: dirk is refUsing to speak to me as well.  
GT: What?  
GT: Callie with all due respect that doesnt make a flipping fucking fig of sense.  
UU: believe me, i know!  
UU: i’ve tried talking to him several times now.  
UU: bUt every time i try, he jUst tells me that he is bUsy, and it’s for the best if we don’t speak right now.  
UU: he promises he’ll explain when he can.  
GT: Frig!  
GT: Thats all the exact same malarkey hes been spitting at me for the last week!  
GT: I was really hoping he wouldnt bother giving you of all people the runaround.  
UU: i’m very sorry, jake.  
UU: i know i promised i’d have something for yoU!  
GT: Nonsense callie all you promised was that youd try and youve certainly done that much.  
GT: Im hardly going to hold you accountable for striders interminable poppycock.  
GT: I might give roxy and jane the heads up if he wont even talk to you of all people.  
GT: I need to talk to jane about some things anyway.  
GT: And you too actually.  
UU: :U?  
GT: Um.  
GT: Well suffice to say those dreams arent exactly a secret anymore.   
GT: I had sort of an incident earlier.  
GT: Anyway jade and rox want to get together with everybody and see if anybody else is having something similar?  
GT: Were going to meet in that big clearing outside of town for it if youre willing to come.  
UU: of coUrse i’ll come, jake!  
UU: now you have me cUrioUs. i can hardly abandon yoU in the midst of this mystery!  
UU: and i woUld love to know if anyone else is experiencing something similar.  
GT: Capital then!  
GT: We were going to get some lunch and do it in two days so mark it on your calendar. Erm if calendars even exist anymore.   
GT: Roxy says today was thursday but i sure can’t keep track personally.  
GT: Jade wanted to do it sooner but roxy wants to wait and work on um some other stuff. For a possible surprise!   
UU: i sUppose asking for more on that sUrprise is also a violation of hUman social rUles?   
GT: Well its not a violation per se but i still wont give you an answer!  
GT: My lips are zipped tight callie.   
GT: Anyway ill see you then?  
UU: of coUrse yoU will, jake.  
UU: i hope yoU can sleep better tonight.  
GT: Me too.

* * *

There’s something wrong with the sky. The edges of it are ripped and torn and there are bits of itself floating around in the wrong places, as jagged as the edges of Dirk’s tattoo. The hard islands of artifacts seem to jump around, unable to decide on the correct location. There’s a ship as red as blood floating just overhead and when he climbs back up from being knocked on his ass for what must be the fifteenth time lately, he sees another, smaller blot of bright red. 

He knows what that means instinctively and kicks out a leg to push himself into the air, soaring toward it. Toward her. 

He only arrives in time enough to see a sword flying through the air, Aranea on the other side of it. He remembers being speared not ten minutes ago and yet he doesn’t even hesitate, flinging himself in its way. He doesn’t give half a fig if Jane isn’t herself — and if anything, that makes it even more true that she doesn’t deserve it.

Pain lances through the center of his chest.

He jerks awake. 

There’s no light coming through the window at all. It can’t be later than five in the morning. Instinctively, he presses a hand to his chest. Nothing. Not so much as a scratch. And though he remembers taking a sword to the chest — and is _certain_ he’d been stabbed previously in the dream — he’s sure he never has been. He got shot, once, in that big scrap with the green gents, but that wasn’t the same. 

He picks up his phone first, and then, cursing as he remembers he’s not wearing his specs, slides them on too. 

golgathasTerror [GT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

GT: Jane im pretty sure youre asleep right now but i just had to drop you a line.   
GT: This is probably really out of the blue but i just had the worst nightmare ive possibly ever had?  
GT: It was awful and you were in it and you were …  
GT: We were …  
GT: I dont know it was just all a gigantic mess and im pretty sure i got killed? And in my dream i mightve gotten killed TWICE.   
GT: I sure felt pretty positive that id just bit the dust a minute or so ago.  
GT: And i was pretty sure you were about to bite it too.  
GT: I guess there isnt really any reason for me to talk to you about this?   
GT: It just shook me right up and i guess i just wanted to …  
GT: Did you ever have any dreams about losing somebody and then you want to talk to them just to reassure yourself that theyre fine?  
GG: Goodness gracious.  
GG: Jake?  
GG: It’s like three in the morning …  
GT: Oh sugar honey fucking iced tea jane i didnt wake you up did i?  
GT: Shit.  
GT: Sorry this was a dumb idea in the first place.  
GG: It’s all right.   
GG: Well, no, I really wish you’d waited until morning, but …  
GG: Roxy told me a little bit about what you told her.  
GG: Are you worried this is a dream like one of those?  
GT: Sort of yeah.  
GT: It was vivid and everything felt real just like those ones even if this time i felt more like me.  
GG: Well, you don’t have to worry about that.  
GG: It wasn’t real.  
GG: You’re here right now, aren’t you? 

“It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

Brain Ghost Dirk is sitting on the corner of Jake’s bed. This time, Jake can definitely tell it’s not the real thing. He has that faint transparency to him; Jake can see the dim outline of his own dresser through Dirk’s red hair. Brain Ghost Dirk isn’t looking at him, but at the wall.

“Care to explain that, bucko?” Jake snaps. 

“I’m not sure I can.” He tilts his head. Then looks at Jake. He’s wearing his shades, but Jake can just barely see pinpricks of orange under the black. “Showing up at all these days is getting tough. Even if I tried to explain, well. First off, I’m not sure you’d get it. And secondly, I probably wouldn’t be able to stick around to give the whole explanation, at the moment.”

“And why’s that?”

Brain Ghost Dirk shrugs one shoulder and doesn’t answer. Jake’s phone buzzes.

GG: Jake?  
GT: Shit sorry jane i guess i started drifting off again.  
GT: And after waking you up too.  
GT: I guess youre right its just so hard to shake something that scary and that vivid out of your head.  
GG: Yeah.  
GG: I know what you mean.  
GG: I haven’t had any memory dreams the way you have, but I’ve had plenty of nightmares. I used to dream about —   
GG: Well, I guess “the Batterwitch” is the best thing to call her?  
GG: I think it was some form of her subliminal mind control.  
GG: When I was really young, I’d run and find Dad.  
GT: Id do that with grandma too when i was younger.  
GT: Maybe i should have bugged jade in the first place but i felt strange about it?  
GG: I would, too.  
GG: Anyway …  
GG: I hate to run off on you, Jake, but I don’t think 3:30 in the morning is the best time to talk about this?  
GG: And I am really still tired.  
GT: Yes jane im really sorry i woke you up i was thinking youd just see it when you woke up and it would be one of those embarrassing things you never mention.  
GT: Haha.  
GG: Hah.  
GT: I …  
GT: Id like to talk more?  
GT: About just all kinds of stuff.  
GG: Jake …  
GG: Me too, but again.  
GG: 3:30!  
GT: Argh youre right youre right youre right.  
GT: Well talk about this more on saturday?  
GT: I mean youll be there right?  
GG: Yes.  
GG: To both questions.   
GG: Good night, Jake.  
GT: Good night jane. 

golgathasTerror [GT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

Brain Ghost Dirk is gone again.

Well, fine. It’s been a full four days since he last tried to pester this particular asshole.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: Strider.  
GT: Have i got a hell of a bone to pick with you.  
TT: State your business.

What? That’s unusually brusque. He doesn’t even get a “go away, Jake”? Jake manages to not feel attacked, but does allow the full brunt of annoyance in its stead.

GT: And what business i have, pal!  
GT: Remember that annoying brain phantom i mentioned?  
GT: Well guess whos back and as inscrutable as ever!  
TT: Is that really so important that you needed to pester me about it?  
GT: Uh yes????  
GT: Since the “real” dirk strider is so amazingly impossible to get ahold of!  
TT: It is 3:37 in the morning.  
TT: I could be sleeping.  
GT: Like hell you could be. I dont think youve even figured out how to sleep like a real human being yet.  
TT: I do plenty of things like a real human being, and sleeping is one of them.

Wait.

_Wait._

GT: Oh my bleeding martyred jesus FUCKING christ!!!  
GT: I cannot believe you did it again dirk strider didnt you learn your lesson the FIRST time?  
GT: Who the flying fuck even makes a second crazed chatbot just for the purposes of making themselves even less accessible!  
GT: Only! Freaking! You!  
GT: And for that matter its not even a very good one it gave itself away in like three sentences!  
TT: It seems you’ve asked about the Auto-responder 2.0. This is a program currently in infancy and testing stages, designed to mimic DS’ rad typing algorithms, with a $NUM% accuracy rating.   
TT: Thank you for participating in the AR2.0 test phase.  
GT: EAT SHIT YOU ROBOTIC WHIPPERSNAPPER.  
TT: It seems you would like me to eat shit.  
GT: At least the other one had a stinking personality!

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

God. He nearly throws his phone across the room again.

Is _Dirk_ ever going to have a lot to answer for on Saturday.


	4. Buried Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone’s not here,” Roxy says, and Jake’s glad he’s not the first to point it out. She’s frowning and her eyebrows are pinched together. “Where the fuck is Dirk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?_   
>  _I was knocking on your ear's door but you were always out_   
>    
> 

The problem is, Dirk isn’t frigging there. 

Jake scans the park a good ten minutes before they’re supposed to start their meeting, when the others are still filtering in. Jade is there already and has been there since he arrived. Calliope is sitting with her, doodling loosely in a sketchbook Rose dug up for her from her house. A couple minutes later, Roxy and John show up, arm-in-arm. Terezi comes after that. A couple _more_ minutes pass, and then Dave and Karkat show up, both looking a little bit redder than they probably should. Jane shows up, waving at Jake, who waves back at her before she turns to talk to Roxy. Then, the ten minutes are up and Jade starts gathering everyone up. Jake turns and scans the horizon, but there’s no sign of lanky red-headed asshole anywhere in sight. A full two minutes after everyone’s loosely gathered into a circle, Rose and Kanaya creep out from apparently nowhere and join them.

But Dirk is still nowhere to be found. 

Jake is inches from yanking out his phone and reaming out Dirk, or his new baby autoresponder, but Jade heads him off.

“Okay!” she announces. “Now that _everyone’s_ here!” This comes with a very direct look at Rose and Kanaya. Rose doesn’t look abashed at all, and in fact barely seems aware of Jade’s glare. Kanaya, at least, has the grace to blush. 

“Everyone’s not here,” Roxy says, and Jake’s glad he’s not the first to point it out. She’s frowning and her eyebrows are pinched together. “Where the fuck is Dirk?” 

“Yeah, where is he, anyway?” Jane adds. “I’ve sent him a bunch of messages, but he hasn’t replied to any of them.”

“Samesies,” Roxy sighs. Calliope, beside her, looks guilty and glances up at Jake, who has the suspicion that if she had lips to chew she’d be doing just that. He’s befuddled by this. Dirk brushed him off, certainly — but Dirk still _spoke_ to him. He considers it, considers the newborn second auto-responder, and considers if Dirk made it out of guilt over not talking to Roxy and Jane. He opens his mouth to say something about it. 

“He’s not coming.”

Dave mumbles most of the time, but this is the loudest Jake’s ever heard him talk. It’s not even angry, it’s just firm. Everyone turns their attention to him immediately. 

“He isn’t?” Rose asks. She arches one slim eyebrow. Sometimes Jake is caught off guard by how similar she looks to Dirk. The same eyebrows, the same pointed nose, the same high cheekbones. 

Dave’s cheeks immediately flush a bit. He mumbles out a response. 

“No!” Karkat snaps over him. Karkat isn’t really shouting, but he’s always on the edge of it. “We tried to drag his reluctant ass along but it was like trying to force a hoofbeast to drink. He said he’s too damn busy to deal with any of us normal plebians and he’ll take his wine chilled and his fruitglobes served to him by lowblood servants, fucking thank you.”

“He didn’t actually say any of that,” Dave clarifies, even though it really didn’t need clarification. “Also, gay as hell or not, Dirk would be putting grapes in his mouth, not balls, I have no fucking idea why trolls use the same word for those.” 

“A, Dave, what the fuck does it matter! And B, he came close enough to saying it!” Karkat retorts, and folds his arms. “So no, Strider: Even Bigger Asshole Edition is not coming, on account of being a stick in the mud wedged so fucking deep that he’s buried in the fucking core. Go on without him. He probably doesn’t have anything to contribute anyway.” 

“Wow,” Brain Ghost Dirk drawls. “Talk about defensive.”

Jake looks at him. Jane and Roxy follow his gaze. 

“Jake?” Roxy asks.

“Erm,” Jake says. “Nothing.”

“You could tell them I’m here, I don’t care.” Brain Ghost Dirk settles down into the circle, into an empty spot beside Jake like it was left for him. This time, he’s not wearing his Prince gear; he’s wearing Dirk’s favored outfit during the session. That plain black tank top, his baggy jeans tucked into those dreadful fucking shoes. He’s even got his gas mask with him, cradled in his gloved hands. Jake nearly counters that he’s not sure they’d believe him, but he doesn’t want to look loony, so he doesn’t say anything at all. For Brain Ghost Dirk, that doesn’t seem to matter. “Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug. His semi-transparent fingers gloss over his semi-transparent mask. “I’m just saying it seems those two know a hell of a lot more about what’s going on than they’re letting on.”

It’s true. Jake glances over at them, considers it. Dave is furiously muttering to Karkat, who, for all his best efforts, can’t mutter convincingly at all, and parts of his speech carry really well — “No, Dave, I’m not going to make excuses for him” being the most immediately audible. He glances back at Brain Ghost Dirk. 

He looks up at Jake and smirks in that fucking infuriating way Dirk tends to. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “Half of what I know is just what you know, remember?”

 _And the other half?_ Jake wonders, because he knows that for Brain Ghost Dirk, thinking it is just as good as saying it.

The phantom suddenly looks uncomfortable.

“Well, fine,” Jade says, and Jake snaps back to attention. “We’ll just have to go ahead without him!” Dave hushes Karkat with a gesture that is probably five times more dramatic than it needs to be. Karkat huffs air through his teeth. John just looks painfully lost, and Roxy pats him on the shoulder. “Jake is actually the reason we’re here today, so, Jake, do you want to explain what’s going on?”

Ten pairs of eyes turn to him and his immediate thought is there is nothing in the world he wants less. He feels himself shriveling under their gazes. “Erm,” he says. His shoulders hunch. He tries to look at the ground instead of remembering how goshdarned _many_ of them there are. “Well, it’s — it’s probably not at all important, and I really don’t think this was all that necessary, so, the thing is — “

“Jake,” Jade says. There’s some sympathy in it, sure, but it’s mostly _get on with it._ He cringes even further. He starts talking again, and this time the words come out in a constant stream like he’s turned on a faucet. 

“Well, yes, the thing is, you see, I keep having all of these — memories? I suppose that’s what you’d call them? — in my dreams except they’re really not memories at _all_ or at least not memories of things that have happened to me! Most of them are of being old and a couple I’m not old yet but I can tell I’m still not really me, I feel wrong in my own skin! And then erm the other day Jade was showing Roxy and I her grandpa’s dog and I just — “ Instead of explaining this he gestures with his hand, makes a skid-and-slide gesture with one hand following the same arc that Charlie Brown did every time Lucy tricked him into kicking a football. “Flat on my back. Passed out for a good five minutes, Jade tells me, and I had another one of the dratted things then.”

Terezi is looking straight at him and it should not be friggin possible for the stare of a blind girl to be so unnerving. Jake finds his words dwindling off into nothing, only to realize she’s actually looking — beside him, her chin ever so slightly angled. He glances down at Brain Ghost Dirk, who obligingly nods as though he’s been listening closely to every word Jake says. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to Terezi at all.

“Go on,” the troll girl says, apparently having realized that she’s the source of his increased nerves. Her voice is usually keen and biting. Now it sounds almost … subdued? She’s been distant from most of them since they opened the door, but Jake still doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“I’m not really sure there’s that much more to say,” he says. “Except that Jade and I figured that some of the, uh, dream-memories are of her grandfather’s life.” Though that doesn’t explain the one with the sword and Jane nearly getting run through. He doesn’t really like to think about that one. He clears his throat. “I’ve had some others that weren’t of her grandpa, or, I don’t think so, but they still weren’t — ”

“Oh no,” Terezi says. Her mouth is twisting funny, but her eyebrows are slanted upward in a way that almost looks — sad? “They were very much _real,_ Grandpa Bananadad.” She’s called him that since the first time they met. It’s never stopped driving him crazy.

“Wow,” Dave says, not even bothering to wait for the dramatic silence that Terezi probably expected. “Rude much? You gonna let us in on this personal knowledge sideshow anytime soon, TZ, because let me tell you, I am feeling hells of left in the dark right now. We’re talking wandering around, stubbing your toe on the corner of the dresser, hopping around cussing on one foot levels of dark. Truly deep and pitch shit here. So dark your weirdo hatemance bullcrap couldn’t even — ”

“Dave,” Rose says. 

“It wasn’t important,” Terezi says. She shrugs, looking down at the ground, and now it’s her shoulders that curl up around her. “I remembered, that’s all.” 

“Remembered what?” Kanaya asks, but only after a long moment where no one seems to speak. 

“What almost happened,” Terezi says. “To all of us.” 

There’s even more awkward silence following that, as everyone tries to puzzle out what she means, and Jake remembers the dream with the sword, with Aranea, with —

“If I might?” Rose asks. Jake gratefully shuts his nightmare out of his mind and nods toward her. Her lips are pursed. Roxy is looking at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I hadn’t wanted to bother anybody about this,” she continues, “especially because, from the sounds of it, I haven’t been having nearly as many dreams as Jake has been. But I have had … a few.” She attempts to smile. It’s a smile Jake recognizes because he’s seen it on Dirk’s face. The please-believe-I’m-okay smile. The I’m-pretending-to-be-fine smile. “They often involve my death.” 

Kanaya reaches over, takes her hand and squeezes it. Rose squeezes back, lifting their linked hands to kiss Kanaya’s knuckles lightly. 

“Well,” Dave says. “That’s fucked up.” 

“And yours,” Rose adds, turning toward him.

Dirk and Rose might have similar faces, but Dave shares their eyebrows, and his pinch together as he grunts noncommittally. “I mean yeah,” he says, reluctant, “I dream of that shit all the time but I figured it was just a Time player thing, you know, doomed Daves, the enemy, all that crap. And who wouldn’t have PTSD after the whole Green Sun shit, but ...”

“In these dreams of yours,” Rose presses, “were you fighting the troll empress against a backdrop of New York City?” 

Dave refuses to confirm that, but the noncommittal shrug he gives in response is as good as a yes. He’s too quiet for it to be anything but true. His mouth twists. 

“Are there many of them? Those dreams?” Rose continues. Dave holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Well,” Terezi says, and now her voice has turned a bit hard and jagged, the way Jake recognizes it, “good to know I’m not the only one suffering through this nonsense.” 

“And what nonsense it is!” Karkat declares, and then, “Lalonde, leave the fuck off, can’t you see you’re striking a nerve?” 

“It’s fine,” Dave says. “No, there weren’t that many. Just once in a while, that’s all. Maybe two? Tops? You sort of start finding it hard to separate the normal death dreams from the freaky ESP death dreams. What about you?” 

“Three in the last week,” Rose says. She glances over her shoulder at Jake, whose stomach sinks. 

“At least one every night for the past week,” he wagers, though his voice pitches up and it comes out more like a question. Rose’s eyebrows rise significantly, and she opens her mouth to ask more, even though Jake isn’t honestly sure he has any more to give.

“Jake talked to me about it,” Calliope says, words all falling out of her mouth in a rush. “He told me not to say anything, and I suppose he didn’t want to worry any of you, but I told him that I didn’t really know where it was coming from, because he thought it might have been related to game powers. In fact …” She trails off, but Jake knows the rest of the sentence. She’d said it sounded more like something Dirk would experience. 

Brain Ghost Dirk won’t look at him when Jake tries to meet his eyes. 

“That’s a thought,” Rose says, tapping her lower lip. “Some sort of lingering Skaian residue like a film over the pristine coating of our new lives. Roxy,” Roxy perks up — which makes Jake realize she’s been studying him, watching his facial expressions, and his face flushes all at once, “didn’t you tell me that your mother had visions of some sort?” 

“Yeah,” Roxy says. “It’s how she and Dirk’s bro set us up, so we’d be okay in the future. I mean, I guess I don’t know how setting up an old apartment in the middle of Texas was supposed to help a tiny little baby or nothin’, but — “

“I suppose, then, that this is related to my province as a Light player,” Rose says. “Or as a Seer.” She lifts her head, tilts her chin in Terezi’s direction. “Would you like to verify?” 

“Don’t look at me, Lalonde,” Terezi says. Jake had the suspicion that if she could roll her eyes behind those glasses, she would. “I’m pretty sure the way you and I accessed these other memories are completely different.” 

“But you have accessed some.”

“Yes,” Terezi says. She wrinkles her nose, dark lips twisting. “But mostly not of my life before the scratch,” she says, “which it sounds like is what all of you are having. I’ve had — flashes — of those since we came here, but it’s really not my department.”

“Then what is your department?” Kanaya asks. Jake glances at her. She’s usually so even, but there’s a definite edge of annoyance to her tone. Her brows furrow when Terezi just dismisses her with a shrug. 

“Choices,” the other troll says after a long minute. “That’s what the Mind-y thing is all about, remember?” 

“Thanks for that totally helpful interlude, TZ,” Dave says.

“You’re welcome.” 

“Anyway,” he continues, looking perturbed — apparently she cut in on what was intended to be a full Striderian ramble, “I’m not a Seer or a Light person or even a Mind person so I’m not sure how you explain away me, and Jake over there definitely isn’t any of those things either, so I think we might throw a hell of a wrench in your theory.”

“Um.” Roxy has raised a finger, her own eyebrows tight together as she chews on her lower lip. John is staring at her. Calliope’s staring too. She waits for a minute, and then when no one outright asks, “How vivid is this sorta stuff?”

There’s a cacophony as Rose, Dave, and even Terezi all attempt to answer at once, and Jake hesitates to do the same. He finally shrinks back, waiting until their voices die off, only to see that Roxy is looking straight at him.

“Jake?” she says. “I think you were the first one to get these. How vivid are they for you?” 

“Like living,” he says, still hating the way all those eyes burn into him. “Vivid as waking up in the morning and smelling the bacon. I just feel like I’m a — memory leech, or something like that?” 

“My experience is more — vague memories,” Rose offers, and Dave nods along. “Like a dream that you’ve woken from, but can barely remember. Or a book you read years ago.” Terezi refuses to join in, staring forward at Jake — or at Brain Ghost Dirk — again. 

Roxy nods. “Okay,” she says. “I think I’ve had … something, like it? But it was actually before we beat the game. Callie found me in a dream bubble, and I was wearing these sciencey clothes, and we were in this weird spoopy version of my house with all these wizard pics, but it all felt like — familiar? Right? And I was wondering if it was more like that. Super freaking vague, though.” 

“I remember that,” Rose says, and frowns, cupping her chin in her hand. “The bubble where we met. But if it’s tied to game abilities …” 

“Great!” Karkat seems bored by the entire endeavor, and flings his arms up. “So we’re back at fucking square one!” 

“Maybe,” Jade says. The group turns mostly as one to look at her. Rose and Kanaya are still murmuring to each other. Dave hisses something into Karkat’s ear, and Karkat jumps a little bit, then shakes his head. “Maybe … ” She draws out the word. “It’s not necessarily tied to game abilities, but those might help?” She frowns. “I really wish Davepeta were here!” she adds. “They could help with this!” 

“The last fucking thing we need,” Dave says, sounding exhausted, “is another goddamn Dave, especially one that is part weird catgirl.” 

“No, listen!” Jade flaps a hand at him. “I saw them before we fought all those people! They were talking about — about ultimate people, about how all your choices across timelines create an ultimate you, and even the experiences you don’t have matter to that final version!” Her ears perk up and her voice gains speed as she talks. “And you know, they were saying that being a Heart player and a Time player helped them really understand their ultimate selves, so that _does_ mean that game powers matter, don’t you see?” She points at Dave. “You’re dreaming of it because you’re a Time player!” 

“What about me, then?” Roxy asks, and Jake is relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to do so. 

“Well,” Jade says, and chews her lip. Her ears fold down again. 

“Maybe it’s something we’re all going to experience sooner or later,” Jane says. Jake turns to look at her. She’s frowning, eyes on the ground. “Maybe Roxy’s stuff was just kickstarted since Rose found her! And Jake … ” She looks at him, but her nose wrinkles up and Jake realizes there isn’t an explanation for him. “Well,” she says. “Maybe it’s a Page thing?” 

“I don’t think so,” Calliope says.

“I think I have a better explanation,” Terezi mutters.

Before she can elaborate, Karkat butts in. “Great!” he says, faux-chipper. “What about you, Egbert? What about you, Kanaya? And while that was a nice little thought, Crocker, do you have anything else to contribute?”

“Well,” Jane says. “No, actually. I haven’t been experiencing any of this — confusing silliness!” She blushes and looks down. “I actually feel fairly useless being here, to be honest with you.” 

Kanaya herself looks up from where she sits beside Rose. She looks pained. “To tell the truth, I haven’t been experiencing it, either.” She shrugs one shoulder, turning to look at Rose instead of Karkat. “I certainly don’t see why the explanation of it being game-related couldn’t be true, but … ”

“But that does little to help us,” Rose says.

“Exactly.” Kanaya sighs.

John heaves a sigh hard enough that Jake feels like the slight breeze responds to it. “I don’t feel useless, but I do feel sorta bored,” he offers. “I haven’t felt any of this bullshit either. Though I have a bunch of questions for Terezi about what she supposedly remembers.” 

“Buzz off, Egbert,” Terezi says, “it’s private.” 

“Anyway, no, I guess I probably didn’t even need to be here.” He stretches himself out. Jake realizes that he’s floating just an inch or two above the ground. “Sorry I can’t help! This whole thing sounds … well, it sounds pretty shitty. I’m actually glad I’m not going through it.”

“Way to be thoughtful, John,” Roxy says.

“Shut up, it’s not my fault.” He sighs, rolls back slightly, and then springs to his feet, offering her a hand. “You can like, let us know if we need to meet again about this?” he says. “I’ll tell you if I start having dreams, too, but for now — like, what are we supposed to do to stop them?” 

There’s no answer. People are barely even talking. Jake’s heart sinks as everyone looks around at each other. 

“Maybe what we need is some time to think about it,” Jade says. 

“I can’t fucking believe that’s the best we can do,” Dave replies. He leans back against a tree, pushing his hand up to rub his eyes underneath his shades. “I was hoping maybe there’d be a miracle cure.”

“You’re sure complaining a lot, Mr. Twice Maybe Tops,” Rose says, one eyebrow arched. “If anyone ought to be complaining, it’s Jake.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Lalonde,” Karkat barks, even as Dave is starting to open his mouth to reply. “It’s costing him sleep, alright? Lots of sleep. I’d know.” 

Rose’s eyebrows arch higher, a smirk crossing her lips. Karkat’s grey skin blooms with sudden redness over the bridge of his nose, and he looks away.

“Anyway!” he adds, and trundles to his feet as well. “Meeting done and over, everybody go home and try to think of a way to fix weirdo leak memories, there, fucking done! Come on Dave, let’s go.” 

That seems to be all it takes for the group to start to slowly dissolve. Roxy takes John’s hand and climbs to her feet, but pauses before leaving to talk to Rose, who is still sitting by Kanaya. Karkat yanks Dave away toward the tree line. Terezi doesn’t move, even as Jake gets to his feet and Brain Ghost Dirk does the same.

“Yo,” the phantom says, “tell her to stop fucking staring, it’s rude.” 

Before Jake can do any such thing, Jane is coming toward him, and his heart does approximately three backflips.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks. “From Thursday — well, I guess it was technically Friday morning.”

“A little,” he says, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Not a lot. The dreams are, um, back to normal since then. Mostly about Jade’s gramps again, off having adventures as he roams the world.” He rubs the back of his head. Jane’s looking at him like she expects him to drop dead any instant. “You were actually in some of them, I think.” 

Her face brightens. “I was?” Then darkens. “Just the — ”

“No!” he hurries to correct himself. “No, not just the — the violent ones. There was one where you and I were both young and we were just sitting reading a book together.” The dream was the one he’d had before coming to their little powwow. He could recall it the way he remembered the route from his little jungle orb to the creek, back in the day. “Some immense hunk of junk, really. But then I said something like, I don’t know why we put up with her, and you hushed me, and — ”

“Oh,” she says, and then, eyes brightening again, “oh! Oh, John’s Nanna told me about this! You’re — she grew up with you! With him! Jade’s grandpa! He left when they were still young, but she said that they were thick as thieves right up until then! Apparently he tried to talk her into going along, but … ”

“But she was scared,” Jake says on instinct. He remembers the terror on Joan’s face. _She’ll find us, Jackson, she’ll find us and she’ll make sure we never forget what we did._ Joan. Jackson. He shakes the unfamiliar names away. “Erm. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Jane must have seen something in his face, though, because now she looks sad — and a bit scared, herself. “Jake,” she says. She starts to reach down to take his hand, hesitates, and stills. “If this gets worse, do you think — do you think you might … lose grip on yourself?” 

“No,” Jake says, at the same moment as Brain Ghost Dirk chimes in, “Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

He glances over with a glare, then looks back at Jane, who looks even more worried. She can’t see him. Shit.

“Honest to Betsy fucking Ross, Jane, I’m five by five. Aces. Right as rain. Don’t worry about me, all right?” He taps the side of his head. “Whenever it gets a little heavy I just shake it all out in here and it’s good again. All right? Don’t you worry about me.” 

“I can’t help but worry about you, and you know it,” Jane says. 

Jake smiles. It feels — good, to be friends with her again, to talk like this, and have all the nasty business from the game put behind them. He ought to come out with the others more. Just for her sake. He starts to reach for her hand as well, only to hesitate and put his other hand on her shoulder instead. He squeezes.

“Thank you, Jane,” he says. “You’re a right shining star and I really don’t deserve you as a friend.” 

She flushes. “I should go.” She glances back toward the others. “I promised I’d hang out with Callie after the meeting. She turns back to him, hesitates, and then, all at once, “You tell me right away if it gets so bad that you can’t handle it, all right?” 

“Cross my heart,” Jake promises, doing just that.

She turns away and wanders over to Calliope, glancing back at Jake just once. He watches her, considers going over and asking if they have room for one more. When he checks his phone, it’s still devoid of messages from Dirk. So — to hell with it, then. He takes a step forward.

“Hey.”

He turns to see Dave standing nearby, trying to look unobtrusive. Jake thought Karkat had dragged him off, but there he stands, Karkat lingering near the treeline, glancing around. Dave is also glancing around — it’s less noticeable, but his chin is twitching slightly from one side of his stoic pose to the other. 

“Hello?” Jake asks, even as Dave beckons him over and turns back toward the treeline. 

“We need to talk,” Dave says. “About Dirk. There’s problems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter, most boring chapter. It's okay, shit is gonna move next time.
> 
> On the upside, no pesterlogs to format this chapter! On the downside, no pesterlogs to write this chapter. Aww.


	5. Under The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look," Dave says, and his expression goes solemn again. Even moreso this time. Jake likes to believe he's mastered the finer art of telling ironic solemnity from sincere concern. "About Dirk," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _you've got to get up and try_  
> 

The Strider house is sort of a gigantic mess, and Jake has to move a stack of CDs a foot high off the couch before he can sit down. Dave rifles in the fridge, pulls out a few bottles of apple juice, and tosses one to Jake, who barely manages to catch it.

"I told you to clean up in here!" Karkat gripes from somewhere in the half of the first floor that seems to be a kitchen. There's a flight of stairs curling up from the living space; Jake assumes the bedrooms are up that way somewhere. "What kind of oinkbeast are you, having visitors over to your hive without sprucing up the place first?"

Dave slides out of the kitchen and drops into a chair across from Jake. "Some people apparently can't live if there's a speck of dirt anywhere in their vicinity," he says solemnly. Jake nods, unsure if he should take it as a joke. Dave is just as skilled at playing deadpan as Dirk ever was. His eyebrows quirk a little. "I think he's in there wiping it down," he says in a conspiratorial almost-whisper. 

"Fuck off! If you ever did your fucking dishes -- " Karkat counters, and Dave's face breaks into an actual sincere smile as he clearly coughs down laughter. Water runs from the kitchen. Jake twists, trying to see, but there's a wall between the couch and whatever Karkat is doing. 

"Look," Dave says, and his expression goes solemn again. Even moreso this time. Jake likes to believe he's mastered the finer art of telling ironic solemnity from sincere concern. "About Dirk," he says. 

"Yes, about him!" Jake can't help it. Dave had told him he'd explain once they were home and in private, and wouldn't offer any answers besides that. His fingers find the cap to his apple juice, twist it off, and he takes a huge swallow. Then he smacks his lips. He's used to sugar from raiding Dirk's supply of orange soda, but this is a different kind of sweet altogether. Apples definitely never grew on his island in the first place -- wrong climate -- and he has a feeling that real apples probably don't taste that much like this. "Are you going to tell me what the shitting hell is going on with him? He won't answer me! Only his stupid dadblasted autoresponder -- "

Dave cuts him off with a groan. "Shit," he says, and takes a sip of his juice as well. "I didn't think that thing was up and running yet, what the fuck." 

Jake is befuddled. Then affronted. Then angry. "He told _you_ about it?" 

"Part of the reason you're here is because I'm the only one he's willing to tell about fucking anything right now," Dave says. He mirrors his action from the park earlier, pushing one hand up under his sunglasses to rub at his eyes. Then he sips his juice again. "It's a problem," he says. Jake has a feeling he's at a loss for words and fishing for a nice segue into what he really wants -- or needs -- to say. "So I'm staging an intervention. An in-Dirk-vention. Something like that. Shit man, look, I think you don't even realize what a mess this is. I thought that it would pass, but the more I hear about this whole heaping wagonful of bullshit ... "

"What wagonful?" Jake asks, but his stomach sinks. Brain Ghost Dirk vanished the minute Dave approached him. Jake wishes he'd pop back up to say something witty and deflective, just to defuse how heavy even the air suddenly feels on Jake's shoulders. Maybe be a right smartass. Like the real Dirk. Though when Jake thinks about it, his heart sinks even more because when things got serious, Dirk didn't usually try to defuse. He panicked. He just ... did so quietly. And inwardly.

Dave tilts his chin and Jake has a feeling the look under those shades is deadpan. "You know exactly what wagonful," he says. "In fact, English, I think you probably know what wagonful better than any of the rest of us along for this horseshitty hayride." 

It'd be a funny image, if Jake didn't feel like a constricting snake was wound tight around his lungs. Getting tighter by the minute. 

"He tells me a little bit," Dave says. He actually seems to consider taking off his shades, but his hand stills at the arm, and he lowers it, shaking his head. "Seeing as I know better than anybody what he must be experiencing. But I think he thinks it's too much to burden even me with. Before that shit all started, it was fine, you know? He'd deflect, I'd tell him Mo -- Roxy left him like 10 million messages through me, he'd deflect some more, I'd tell him to talk to you guys, he'd say maybe tomorrow. You know." He laughs. It's strained. "Sibling stuff." 

"He's dreaming," Jake says, voice low. It's like a record has skipped in his brain. He's stuck on it. _You know better than anyone what wagonful. I know better than anybody what he must be experiencing. I know better than anybody. What Dirk's experiencing._

"Yeah," Dave says. He just leaves it at that. His shoulders hunch a bit. Silence stretches out between them as Jake recounts what he knows about Dirk, what he knows about Dave, and what he knows about Dave's version of Dirk.

What he knows about Dave's version of Dirk isn't very good. 

He and Dave don't have a lot of occasion to talk, but Jade let it slip once or twice. Always accidentally. Just comments like how much Dave must be loving having a brother that wasn't going to make him fight every day. How Dave told her Dirk was trying to curtail the puppet thing a bit for his sake, and that was really considerate, she didn't know Dirk was that considerate, why hadn't Jake told her he was so considerate? Considerate. Jake's heart sinks. More like, terrified of breaking something newly-made through not knowing better. 

"So is that why," he starts. Swallows. "Is that why he's -- "

"I mean," Dave cuts him off, and then shrugs a bit in apology when Jake falls silent. "Not entirely. He -- it's not like they started right the instant we came through that door, you know?" This time, he rubs at his nose. It's freckled just like Dirk's. Their hair is similar, though Dave is blonder, like Roxy. "He said that -- that you said you needed time, so he'd wait, and that it was better for everybody else to have some distance, too. He only puts up with me because, in his fucking words, I've ‘seen the worst of him' so it's not like he can scare me off." He cracks a weak smile. "Also, I think Karkat's rubbed off on me and I'm stubborn, cause he did try to chase me off a couple times and I wouldn't put up with it." 

Karkat drops down in a chair beside Dave, cracking open a can of some kind of drink himself. Jake startles. He hadn't even heard the water stop running. Karkat makes a face at the mess around the two of them, but even though his nose seems to trap itself in a perpetual wrinkle, he doesn't set about cleaning it up or even scolding Dave for it. Though Jake can tell he wants to. 

"Anyway," Dave says, as Karkat scoots his chair over so he and Dave are shoulder-to-shoulder, "so no, it wasn't entirely that. Some of it was just good old fashioned Dirk bullshit. Woe is me, Dave, I _made_ them all talk to me, I literally forced their mouths open like --" he derails from a metaphor so sharply that Jake can practically hear the verbal skid, "like they didn't have a choice, now nobody's ever going to again and if they do that's because I made them, too -- "

"That's such a bunch of malarkey!" Jake says before he can think about it. Karkat's eyes dart to him in interest, dark eyebrows rising. Jake feels a flush paint itself over the bridge of his nose.

"Believe me man," Dave says. "I know." 

"If you ask me," Karkat says, and barrels over Dave mumbling that no Karkat nobody asked, "it's pretty fucked up that he keeps putting _Dave_ through this shit when Dave is the one who had to suffer through it before! But here he is again, oh, Dave, you better listen to my interminable angst about how I fucked you up, and make me feel better about it."

A flame of furious defense lights in Jake's chest, but before he can even open his mouth to counter that, Dave turns to Karkat. "We've talked about this." He sounds annoyed.

Karkat deflates all at once, all the righteous anger going out of him like a burst balloon. "I just fucking worry, okay," he says, and squirms a little in his chair. 

Dave softens at that, too. "You really don't need to," he offers. "Dirk and I are cool, I told you that. We worked it all out, back on LOTAK." He shrugs and nudges Karkat with his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think he'd probably take your side. On the burdening me with it stuff." 

Somehow that makes Karkat look even more uncomfortable. He sips from his can of Tab. 

"Frankly," Dave continues, "I'm glad he comes to me if the alternative is not going to anybody period, because fuck knows where that would lead." 

Karkat's face is just a progressing ladder of discomfort, and he keeps climbing the rungs. "From personal experience," he says, and glances at Jake like he's just let loose a major secret in front of an enemy agent, "nowhere fucking good."

Dave just sagely nods at that. 

"What's the deal with his horseshitty responder, then?" Jake asks, because the part of his mind that should be focused on Dirk having dreams of being a monstrous asshole is still skipping back on verse one, repeating the same lyric over and over. 

"He says he needs an outlet," Dave says. "I didn't think it would be up and running so fast. When he gets focused on something, I guess." 

"It's still just -- a baby, basically. I don't think he's done to it whatever he did to the original to make it -- him. Not yet, anyway." It feels like the words are falling out of him as he desperately fumbles for something more meaningful to say. He remembers what Calliope said about Heart players and how did he not realize this was what Dirk was being dodgy about all along? He feels stupid, now. But -- nobody at the park seemed to make that connection either, even though Jade said something about it. That doesn't make him feel any better. He swallows, turning his apple juice bottle around in his hands, and finally asks what's beating around in the back of his head below the constant chorus of _what Dirk is experiencing._ "Why me?" 

Dave's eyebrows lift. So do Karkat's. The troll, in fact, lifts his head and full on stares in rapt befuddlement at Jake. 

"Because you can help him?" Dave says. 

"No, I mean -- why not Roxy, or even Jane?" He's turning the bottle in his hands faster now. He looks down from Dave's face because when he looks too closely the bridge of Dave's nose is the same as Dirk's. "Roxy is way closer to him than I'll ever be, you must know that much, you talk with her all the time. And him. You talk with him all the time. Obviously, that's the whole problem." He misses the days when he didn't realize his mouth started running when he felt caged into a situation. It was easier not to be aware of how dadgummed stupid he sounds. "So he must have told you and _she_ must have told you that they're pretty much the most important people in the world to each other and I really don't think I'm _right_ for this, not after the last time we talked was me telling him I needed some time to think things over before I'd be ready to -- " 

"Holy rageshitting motherfuck, breathe," Karkat interrupts, and Jake suddenly remembers to do so. 

"Look," Dave says, and sits forward. Jake instinctively leans back. "Maybe if Roxy had been the one to call that meeting and shit because she was the first one having dreams, I would have talked to her." He considers it. Chews his lip. "Except probably not, because Dirk and Roxy talked after the game. They worked out their stuff. Him and Jane, too. But I think his shit with you ... " He chews his lip again. Jake is suddenly sick that Dave knows enough sparse details of the situation to dub it _his shit with you._ "I think it's hanging over him," he says, finally. "Making it worse. But I think he doesn't believe he deserves to even bother trying to smooth it out, right now. So ... " 

"Oh," Jake says. That sounds like Dirk. He takes another drink of his juice, tries to breathe even. "So -- so what do we do? What do you need _me_ to do?"

"Just come with me to see him," Dave says. And that's it. He climbs to his feet. Jake swallows hard, but he knows deep down that if he doesn't go with Dave now, he might get up, run away, and never come back. Besides, he tells himself. Dirk needs him _now._ Every minute he and Dave don't go stage this, in Dave's words, "inDirkvention" is another minute Dirk can while away on his new autoresponder, refusing to speak to anyone, burdened with memories of another self that did horrid things. 

"Okay," Jake says. He shotguns what's left of his juice. 

The stairs curve upward as Jake expected; one floor has a hallway leading to what Jake suspects is a bathroom behind one door, and maybe a really big closet behind the other. The next floor Dave skips, but there's only one more floor after that; the staircase stops at a door that Jake wouldn't have been able to say was Dirk's if pressed. There's no decoration, no orange hat or pink heart decal, no sign saying _DIRK'S ROOM KEEP OUT._ Dave knocks, and Jake tries not to bolt back down the stairs. Karkat might not be up here with them, but he's definitely still in the building, and Jake doesn't fancy running into him on his panicked flight instinct. 

"Dirk?" 

There's no response. Dave knocks again. Jake swallows, waits, but Dave calls out a second time and there's still no answer. 

"Maybe he's just really busy," Jake says, "or he's sleeping, maybe he's sleeping? If he's asleep, I don't want to bug him -- " He hates it, but his instincts are coiling up, looking for the easy out. 

"Fuck that," Dave says, and "Dirk, if you don't fucking answer, I'm coming in." 

And once again, Dirk doesn't answer, and Dave does just as promised. Jake winces when the door slams against its frame.

The room is a mess. Jake has known since he started spending time with Dirk that Dirk's not the most organized of souls, but this is over the top even for him. Clothes are strewn across the floor; his blankets are rumbled into knots even though Jake has a feeling they haven't been used for at least a couple days. There's at least a dozen, probably closer to two, empty and half-crushed cans of orange soda strewn across the floor, along with some taller cans that Jake thinks are Redbull, though he hasn't ever drank the stuff himself. Scattered amidst all of that are crumpled rolls of paper. Pieces of circuitry. Discarded chip bags and candy wrappers. It looks like a bomb made of teenage slob hit it. 

Off to the side of the trash carnage is Dirk. 

He still doesn't respond to either of them. He's in his computer chair, the screen flickering with dozens of bright lines of code. Several captchalogue cards are scattered across the desk beside him. The cursor is moving over his screen, filling the window with one long stream of _dddddddddddddddd._ It's doing that because Dirk is unconscious on his keyboard.

He doesn't look much better than the room, in Dirk terms. He definitely hasn't shaved in days, which doesn't mean much for him except for a fine coating of orange peach fuzz across his chin. (He'd complained about it once to Jake, then laughed Jake off when he asked if he should grow a mustache for the both of them.) His hair is tousled and rumpled with gel that must be similarly old. (He spent hours working out how to properly alchemize hair gel, back on LOTAK, on one of their off days.) And he definitely _reeks,_ which is somehow the saddest of it all to Jake. He hasn't even showered, apparently. All of Dirk's pristine maintenance of his appearance and his hygiene, gone down the drain. 

"Shit," Dave says. 

He and Jake together haul Dirk -- still completely insensate -- out of his computer chair and into his rumpled and disheveled bed. He barely stirs at all, even when Dave yanks the blankets out from under him only to throw them back on top of him, haphazard. He grunts a little, nuzzles into his pillow, and then goes silent.

"So," Dave says. "Yeah." His eyebrows are pinched tight together. "That's a thing."

* * *

Dave is surely convinced that Jake agrees to stay the night only out of concern for Dave's peace of mind, Jake thinks, folded up on the couch and drifting in and out of restless sleep. But really, it's much more for his own -- he'd never forgive himself if he left, and Dirk had to hear that the next day. He knows Dirk well enough to know Dirk would see it as a sign of Jake's continuing refusal to speak to him face to face. 

He barely manages to fall asleep enough to dream. It's not that the couch is uncomfortable; it's actually cozy, long enough that he can stretch out his legs. But he's folded up anyway, trying to get at least some rest even though worries about how Dirk is, if he's having more nightmares, if he's going to be okay, if he's going to keep working on his autoresponder, if, if, if ...

_He's scratching behind Bec's ears. "I'll be damned," his mouth says, "if you don't look just like my old boy, Halley. Same breed, I reckon, but there's more to it than that. Well, not counting those peepers of yours, and that tongue, I suppose." Bec barks. He looks up, over the island, and pinpoints the perfect hill to build on._

He snaps awake. He doesn't know how long he's been out. The sky outside is still black, but it was black when he closed his eyes, and he doesn't remember falling asleep. 

There's sound in the kitchen. Feet against tile, running water, and someone quietly cursing under their breath. 

There's only three people it could be, and only one that's likely. Jake rockets to his feet and into the kitchen doorway in an instant. 

Dirk blinks at him, and then freezes the way a deer would when it realizes it's been sighted by a hunter. He's halfway through opening a can of soda; it _tss_ es impatiently. Three separate times, Dirk Strider opens his mouth to say something. Three separate times, he closes it. 

So Jake decides he has to beat Dirk to the punch.

"Why in the dastardly _fuck_ didn't you say anything?" He takes a step forward. Dirk looks equal shares intimidated and exhausted, but his foot still slides back. He finishes popping the tab on the soda. "All you had to say was jeepers Jake I'm just having some memories of some song and dance from my other self! You know what I would have done? I would have said well boy howdy Dirk so am I! And then where would we be? Not frakking here, Dirk Strider!" He raises his hands, gestures around at the kitchen. "Not here." 

"I," Dirk says. He's still unshaven. His hair is even more of a flyaway mess than it was when Dave and Jake found him. He swallows so hard that Jake watches his adam's apple bob downward and then back up. His lips tighten. Loosen. Tighten again. 

"Don't you bother looking for an excuse!" Jake warns, and with that Dirk's lips soften again and stay that way. Jake can see the deep, sleepless bruises under his eyes, now. Dirk's still wearing the same clothes he was when Dave and Jake found him. He turns his face away from Jake, lifts his soda, and takes a drink. "And what's more," Jake continues, since Dirk isn't stopping him, "why are you making another dadblasted responder? Didn't you figure out from the first one that it's just going to blow up in your face and burn your eyebrows right off?" 

"It's in testing," Dirk says. There's raw defensiveness in his tone, but he just looks tired. He won't look at Jake, still. "You weren't meant to see it. I didn't realize I'd given it access to Pesterchum." 

"Well gosh, Dirk, not being _supposed_ to see it sure makes the fact that you did it a whole lot better!" He _sees_ that barb strike home, sees Dirk wince away from it, and briefly feels awful, even though he knows that someone needs to ask Dirk what the fuck he's thinking. "You know, if you're making it because you need someone to talk to -- which we all know is why you made Hal, back when! -- then why don't you try talking to us instead?" 

Dirk laughs. 

"Don't you fucking laugh!" Jake snaps. "The least you could do is not be dismissive! You have all of us here just waiting to lend you an ear. Fiddle-faddle, do you have any idea how worried Jane and Roxy are that you won't talk to them? And Callie's all but beside herself with you giving her the same load of hooey you gave me. Oh Callie don't you worry none, love, I've got it all under control, I'll talk to you later." His voice is getting louder. He tries to lower it again. The last thing he needs is for Dave to walk in on this. "Well, Strider, when the double-hockey-sticks is later?!" 

Dirk's still not looking at him. Now he's looking down at the sink drain, soda still in hand. Jake can see the slight creases of a smile on his face. 

"I appreciate the concern," Dirk says in a voice so flat it could be used as paving stones. "But I think I know what I'm doing. As long as this shit is going on, you all need to stay clear of me." He lifts his can and takes a drink. Jake nearly interrupts, but lets him continue. "Even expecting Dave to deal with it is too much, honestly. If I can't trust myself -- if some version of me is capable of that kind of bullshit -- then it's better if all of you just keep away." 

"Strider, we're your friends," Jake tries as Dirk takes another drink. 

Dirk laughs again. Jake realizes the smile on his face is bitter. "Friends that deserve a hell of a lot better than me," he retorts. 

For what might be the first time in his life, Jake actually sees red. He'd always thought it was metaphorical, before, but there's actually a flash of angry, bright, blood red inside his eyelids and then before he knows what the hell he's even going to say, he's shouting. 

"You don't get to be the one who decides that!" 

Dirk's head snaps up and for an instant, the shiny white line of scar tissue running all the way around his neck is horrifyingly visible. Jake shoves it out of his mind. It's easy, right now, when anger is so much more upfront and accessible.

"Do you think nobody else has ever had that exact same sort of feeling?" he continues, because he remembers sitting curled up in the grass of LOMAX, telling himself he'd be better off alone because he hurt everyone he loved. "Do you think none of the rest of us have sat there telling ourselves, I just don't see what they like so much about me, how is that even possible? Thinking you're just a run-down joke and telling yourself everyone would be better off. What a bunch of hooey!" 

Dirk is staring, now, but Jake has the word faucet problem again and he can't stop it now that he's started. 

"Do you have any stinking idea how _tired_ I am -- we _all_ are -- of Dirk Strider keeping himself at arm's length because he thinks he knows best?" He sweeps his hand out again, not really gesturing at anything. Doing it just to help push this anger and this hurt and this loneliness out of him. "I've been there, Dirk! Maybe not exactly where you are, devil knows it wasn't because of any dreams or memories or anything like that, but I sat there telling myself that you'd all maybe be better off if I _did_ die against Jack! Or that at least if I lived I'd never make any of you talk to me again, since I was so sure none of you could stand me! And now you just want me to sit back and -- and let you do it?" 

"Jake," Dirk says.

"Don't interrupt! I fucking hate it when you do that!" But he doesn't have that much more to say. "All it says," he manages, looking down at the floor so he doesn't have to see Dirk's scar or the sad twist of his lips or remember, through a sugared haze, the way Dirk said _it's over, Jake_ , "all it says to me is that you don't trust us. And maybe you never really did. All it says is that you can't let us make our own decisions, and especially not when they have to do with you. And I just wish, just _once,_ you'd be the one to believe in your friends when they tell you something! You asked it of me! Am I not allowed to ask it of you?" 

He finally looks back up between streams of thought, and sees that Dirk is crying. Dirk doesn't cry dramatically; there's no heaving sobs or wails of despair. But he also doesn't cry prettily. His eyes are already puffing up red over the black of his lack of sleep. Tears are running down his cheeks and a little snot is starting to drip out of his nose and his whole face is turning the color of a ripe tomato.

"Dirk," he says, but Dirk's tears appear to have shut off the word faucet for now. 

"I'm sorry," Dirk says. His whole face wrinkles up and he scrubs one hand over his eyes. It doesn't help; if anything, it makes it worse. "Jake, I'm so, so fucking sorry." 

Jake hears the part he doesn't say and doesn't want to say, which is, of course, _Jake, I'm so fucking scared._

"Hey," he says. He sounds awkward and strained. "It's all right, chap, it's just that -- that you shouldn't try to make us not care, capiche?" Dirk nods a little furiously, still covering his eyes. Jake notes that he's set the orange soda down, and that means this is the best opportunity he's going to get. He steps forward, folds Dirk in his arms, and holds him in an embrace. Dirk hiccups against his shoulder, but his arms wrap tight around Jake's back and he holds on like he's drowning. 

"You're not off the hook just yet," Jake says, after a few minutes have passed. Dirk pulls away and nods. His entire face is red and blotchy and his eyes are bloodshot. He sniffs loudly and wipes at his nose. "But I think maybe -- maybe we need more sleep before we can really talk about this? Both of us." Dirk nods again. Jake pats him on the shoulder before he releases Dirk completely. "And, um, not to be rude, but one of us could certainly use a shower." 

Dirk laughs. This time it's not dismissive or cynical; it crinkles his blotchy face with a smile and he rubs his nose with a closed fist. "I could use a hell of a lot more than that," he agrees. Even bloodshot, his eyes are a piercing orange in the dimness of the room, and Jake's glad that Dirk didn't bother to find his shades before coming down. "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?" Dirk offers. "I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be out. Sleeping is still ... " He wrinkles his nose. 

"I'll be on Pesterchum," Jake replies. "Even if I'm not still here, hit me up and I'll be over in a wink. Okay?"

"Yeah." 

The two of them stand there awkwardly for a few more minutes before Dirk finally picks up his orange soda. He gives Jake a closed-lip smile, "salutes" him with the can of pop, and then retreats from the kitchen. Jake follows him out, watches him vanish up the stairs, and settles back onto the couch. 

This time, sleep comes easily, and almost at once.


	6. Just Like Your Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TT: It was fucked up.  
> TT: He was fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _bring all that you're scared to defend_   
>  _and lay it down when you walk through my door_   
> 

Something is wrong. 

It’s wrong in more ways than before. Jake knows, with sudden piercing clarity, that he’s asleep and dreaming, and the sky is doing that same thing, jumping around unevenly like it can’t make its own edges line up properly. But there’s more wrong than that. He might have felt wrong in his own skin before, in his dreams, but now he realizes that it was more wearing a shirt that was too big. This time everything _does_ feel wrong. His edges feel out of alignment. He’s too big and too small and his hands and legs are in the wrong place and something is wrong with his vision; everything is vaguely dim. 

He looks up at the sky — well, his chin tilts up toward the sky. He watches the pixels jump around. There’s what appears to be a giant piece of candy corn not too far away, but much closer than that is LOMAX, slapped right up close with Dirk’s planet. LOTAK is scarred — more ripped open than scarred, really, bright magma marring its surface, bits of tower floating in the space around him. He can see the magma seeping into the violet canyons of LOMAX. The gas doesn’t seem to catch fire, but the grasses do, and flames slowly spread over the green, cracks splintering across the surface of the little planet and its own red magma visible peeking through the green grass and brown earth. The edges of the planets are wrong, too. There’s jagged echoes of the colors scattered throughout the space around him. When he looks slightly to one side, he can see what looks like Dave’s planet, steel pylons scattered throughout space, the rounded surface of that gone all wrong too.

Misery crashes over him and it’s so powerful that he feels like he’s being swept out to sea in a current. He knows with sudden, inexplicable certainty that no one survived what he’s seeing; that he’s the only one left. But even as he knows that, it feels as wrong as the body he’s in. It’s not his thought. The edges are sharp enough to prick his finger on, and it’s as out of alignment with him as the sky is with itself. Trying to force the emotions into a sphere he understands does nothing but make everything worse, to the point of being smothering. He feels alone. A speck of dust amid a scene of carnage. An ant skittering, completely solitary, through nuclear desolation.

Something within him uncoils in the wake of his despair. Wakes like a dragon, and then — fractures. He feels it as surely as a shattered pane of glass; he can almost hear the cracks form. Then it fractures again. The misery intensifies. It feels like his heart has been replaced with a black hole. As he watches, the sky jumps even further out of alignment. Further. The edges jump away from itself, forming more jagged artifacts, which seem to swarm around him like insects. The thing within him fractures. The sky fractures. He fractures. The sky fractures. He fractures fractures frac tures f ra c tu r

Opens his eyes.

It takes him a long minute to realize that he’s not home. The couch he’s on isn’t his — though he’s fallen asleep on his own couch plenty of times. The walls are plastered with movie posters and some large scale Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff art, as well as a couple horse posters. Tasteful ones, surprisingly. He’s curled up under a blanket and the couch is starlingly comfortable and birds are singing somewhere outside. 

“Good morning,” Dave says. Jake rolls over to see him standing between the main room and the kitchen, sipping from a bottle of apple juice. “Sleep good?”

“Um,” Jake says, because the only thing he can think is _Shit I didn’t wake you up last night with my shouting did I_ and he doesn’t want to give away that he and Dirk had a row if he doesn’t have to. Especially since calling it a “row” is sort of a misnomer, and it was mostly just him yelling until Dirk started crying. The fact that Dirk isn’t _down_ here is distressing enough. 

“I heard you,” Dave said. “Last night.” 

Jake feels himself cringe. “Um, well.” He looks down, fishes for an explanation, even as he moves to sit up and pull some actual shorts on over his boxers. He doesn’t know what to say that isn’t just _we fought._

“Did he listen?” When Jake looks up, concern is pretty distinctly written across Dave’s face. His eyebrows are pinched behind his shades and his mouth is turned downward and he glances back toward the staircase for a moment. “He’s still out,” he clarifies. “It’s like ten, I think? He’s usually an early riser, but when I checked on him when I got up, he was pretty much dead to the world.” 

He shouldn’t be relieved by the news that, for once in his life, Dirk Strider is sleeping late, but it’s mostly good to hear that Dirk hasn’t decided to go back to avoiding him. He breathes deep, in and out. 

“I think so,” he says. “With the listening, I mean. He was — I tried to tell him, anyway, that he needed to stop trying to make us leave him be. And I think I got through?” He decides not to tell Dave about Dirk’s tears. Whether he and Dirk are close or not, it’s not his place to say. “I thought he’d probably be back up and at it by now.” He tugs on his shorts. Then leans down to scoop up his socks and boots. 

“You’re not going to stay until he’s up?” 

“I, um … had plans with Jade and Roxy today.” They don’t especially need his help, but Jake feels like since he made the suggestion of trying to clone a dog, he ought to be there to help out. Especially since the whole thing’s been derailed for his dreams. “But he knows I’m just a pester away! The minute he asks me to come back over I’ll be here in two shakes.” Socks on, he laces up one boot. 

“Okay.” Dave doesn’t sound entirely sure, but when Jake looks back up at him, he shrugs. He still looks tense. “You promise he didn’t scare you off or something?” 

Jake laughs, and immediately Dave’s tense shoulders loosen. He and Dirk have the same noodley, slouchy default posture. He sees Dave let out a breath. 

“Don’t you worry,” Jake assures him, as he ties the laces of his other boot. “Dirk Strider could tell me he’s going to gobble me up like Little Red Riding Hood and he couldn’t scare me off, at this point.” 

Dave sees him to the door, and as Jake is walking down the muddy paths between the can-buildings — the carapace types haven’t had time to get down any cobblestones or the like yet — he thinks about his dream. 

It’s not sticking around, beating at the inside of his head like any of his other dreams have been. Already it’s less real, and only a few details are still distinct enough for the whole thing to seem like anything more than a nightmare. So Jake decides that’s what it is. It’s logical enough — he’d been through a hard day and the entire thing _seemed_ similar to the dream of the dead space before he’d been stabbed through the middle that maybe it’s his mind trying to sort out that confusing memory. The only thing that lingers, that makes him less sure that it’s just a night terror, is the distinctive feeling of something within him shattering, over and over and over again, until there were so many pieces that it was impossible to put them back together again. 

He tries to put it out of his head. He mostly manages. It flaps around a little bit while he helps Roxy type in variables of G, C, A, and T into the machine. It beats like the wings of a trapped bird when the first attempt at a dog is one that Roxy immediately puts on ice before he and Jade even have a chance to look at it. She doesn’t even seem fazed. But that, at least, puts the dream out of his mind for the moment. They spend hours in the lab, but even after all of that, they have nothing to show for it. Roxy shoos the two of them out of the lab, insisting they all take the rest of the day to relax and come back tomorrow with fresh minds. Jake walks all the way home, humming softly, and that’s when the dream comes back. 

The instant he’s home again, he opens up Pesterchum.

GT: Good morning strider or rather should i say good afternoon!  
GT: Dont suppose youre up just yet are you?  
TT: He’s still sleeping. I’m the only one here.  
TT: All by my fucking lonesome, entertaining punks like you.  
TT: What do you want.  
GT: Not to talk to you for one.  
GT: You seem to have sprouted the beginnings of a personality in the last few days at least. I guess thats sort of a relief?  
GT: But really more annoying. The way he was talking i thought hed stopped working on you for the moment.  
TT: He comes and he goes.  
TT: Do you have a message for him or not?  
TT: After all, I am an “automated responder,” am I not?  
TT: Glorified fucking answering machine.  
TT: What’s your voicemail, English.  
GT: Jeepers creepers at least hal pretended to like me sometimes.  
GT: You sound downright unpleasant.   
TT: You’re catching on.  
TT: Do you have a fucking message, or not?   
GT: Not one i want you to hear.  
GT: Just have him give me a jingle when hes up and at em if thats within your capacity.   
TT: It is.  
TT: Though he really shouldn’t be wasting his time.  
TT: You made it clear you were done with him. Time to move on.  
GT: Ugh bugger the hell off already.  
GT: Im not saying another word until i get to talk to the real dirk strider.  
TT: Suit yourself.   


So much for that. The responder doesn’t say another word. He frowns as he reads back over the lines of the conversation. “Sprouting a personality” seems accurate enough, but it’s not a very nice one. And it doesn’t seem anything like Dirk — or if it is, it’s sure the most abrasive, blunt parts of Dirk he’s ever seen. He can see a little bit of Dirk, maybe, when he squints (and that bit about being unpleasant sure reminds him of what Dirk said last night), but not so much that he believes Dirk has taken a captcha image of his brain, again, or even put in a piece of his soul — however he does that. Maybe robots are just unlikeable as a rule up until Dirk implants part of himself into them. 

“Not really.” 

There he is again, finally. Brain Ghost Dirk, sprawled out on the couch. This time he’s just wearing Dirk’s plain white shirt instead of his tank top, and he doesn’t seem to be wearing any shades. 

“Do you actually have answers for me this time, or are you just going to keep spewing bullshit and hoping I figure it out on my own?” Jake asks, closing out Pesterchum for the moment. 

Brain Ghost Dirk’s head turns toward him, and Jake actually stops short of what he was going to say next. There’s something like pain in his face — pain and fear and deep exhaustion. His eyes are as bruised black as Dirk’s were last night. 

“Dirk,” Jake says. 

“He’s fine,” Brain Ghost Dirk promises, but the aching exhaustion in his face doesn’t fade away. If anything, it seeps into his voice. “He’s still asleep. Pulling five all-nighters caught up with him. But he’ll be fine.” 

“I’m not talking about him,” Jake says, “or, well, sort of, but I’m talking about you. You look awful.” 

The ghost smiles and lets out that same cynical Dirk laugh. “I feel awful, too. But we really need to talk.” He sits up. If anything he looks even more exhausted than before. “He’s fucking himself up. And by him, I mean me, I guess. Us. He’s fucking us up.” 

“You said he was fine.” 

“I meant for now.” He runs one hand through his hair. It sticks at odd angles, like Dirk’s did last night, with old gel. “But this whole thing, it’s got him fucked up. Making bad decisions.” 

“Like the responder.” 

“Yes.” He sighs, gestures to the couch. Jake sinks down next to him. “I mean, no. But yeah. You have to understand, man, there’s exactly one thing Dirk does when worse comes to worst for him.” 

It’s like the knowledge of what that is is on the tip of his tongue, at the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he should know, and Brain Ghost Dirk’s eyes are gazing right through him and this is serious enough that his stomach is sinking into his toes and

and all at once he remembers the distinct feeling, like yanking back his fist and driving it right into the core of himself, over and over until all that was left was dust. 

Brain Ghost Dirk nods. 

“Here’s the problem,” he says. “He doesn’t have enough of himself _left_ to keep doing that. Do you know how many of us there _are?_ There’s the big pieces, like me and the old responder, but there’s — dozens, hundreds of other slivers of him, scattered everywhere he’s ever been, that have been flaking off him since the day he was born. Most of them are tiny, but when he gets like this, they get bigger, because he does it deliberately. And if he makes another goddamn responder — do you know how much of him he put into the last one?” 

He knows maybe a little too well. He swallows hard. “That doesn’t explain why you look so — ”

“I take my hints from him, remember,” Brain Ghost Dirk says. “There’s — that’s not all of it. But hopefully the rest won’t matter. If you can just convince him to stop work on that thing … ”

“Wait,” Jake says, “what was that dream? How was I — was that Dirk? How was I feeling things — when did that — _How?_ ”

“That’d be my fault.” He smiles a little bit bitterly. “It’s all sort of my fault. Heart stuff, remember? But I was really hoping you wouldn’t get any of his shit. Guess there’s only so much I can insulate you from that.” 

There’s a lot of questions to be asked to _that._ Is he going to start seeing the things Dirk is? When did that stuff even happen? Was that like Jake’s dream of Aranea, of dying? Did Dirk have that same memory? He opens his mouth to ask, but his phone buzzes and he looks down to see a new Pesterchum notification from Dirk. 

“Good luck.” 

When he looks up, Brain Ghost Dirk is already fading out. He looks back down.

TT: God, sorry about that.  
TT: I really thought I’d shut it off.  
GT: Okay is this really dirk is the real question or are you playing hal level games with me sir???  
GT: Tell me about the new autoresponder if you will!   
TT: No.  
GT: Wow.  
GT: I guess that was a lot more straightforward than expected.  
GT: So this is the real deal is it? The one and only dirk strider!   
GT: Erm i mean as much as you can be one and only.   
TT: Let me guess. That brain copy of yours has been knocking around?   
GT: Yeah but theres your new autoresponder too.  
GT: Dirk can i give you the straight dick about that thing?  
TT: Depends.  
TT: Can you promise never to use the phrase “straight dick” with me again?   
GT: Har fucking har.   
GT: Dirk its starting to get …  
GT: Kind of mean?   
GT: I dont like it something about it is giving me the heebie jeebies.  
GT: Can you please stop working on it?  
GT: Theres no reason for you to now that youre talking with us again.   
TT: There’s a reason.  
TT: But I can stop work on it, if you’re that concerned about it.  
GT: Thatd make me feel a whole lot better.  
TT: In any case, you don’t need to worry.  
TT: Shutting it off was always part of the plan.   
GT: What the devilfuck is that supposed to mean man if youre just going to turn it off why make it in the first place?  
TT: It doesn’t matter.  
TT: Look, you wanted to talk.  
TT: So,  
TT: Can we talk?  


Hearing that from Dirk is something else. And for once Jake doesn’t feel the urge to run away. It’s sort of a surprise, even to himself. He drapes himself over the couch and props up his arms. 

GT: Thats something i never thought id hear you say!  
GT: Lets get talking buster.   
TT: Dave told me that he gave you the rundown.  
TT: And, obviously, you made that pretty clear last night.  
TT: I don’t like him.  
TT: Dave’s brother.  
TT: I don’t like thinking that I became … that.  
TT: Sometimes I have dreams of fighting with him. Once, he couldn’t have been more than nine. Do you know how small a nine year old is? Do you know how big he was compared to that nine year old?  
TT: He was … what, probably thirty when Dave was nine. Maybe thirty five. It’s not like I have time to roll around his head during those dreams.  
TT: It’s not like I even want to.  
GT: Dirk you know that what he did isnt what you did dont you?  
TT: Is it really that different, though?   


Jake blinks. 

GT: Yes its quite different and i was under the impression dave had told you as much?  
GT: I thought you two were getting on swimmingly strider are there problems?  
TT: Not with Dave.   
TT: But sometimes when I feel the things that he felt, and I think of the things that I’ve felt …  
TT: The parallels aren’t ones I like.  
GT: The parallels to what?  
TT: To what I did to you.   
GT: …  
GT: Im … not sure i follow?  
TT: He was obsessed.  
TT: With training Dave. He’d convinced himself that he had to do it. To prepare him.  
TT: Though obviously he was using it as an outlet.  
TT: He had a lot of … a lot of pent up anger at Dave.   
TT: He’d convinced himself that Dave was responsible for a lot of things that had gone wrong in his life.   
TT: It was fucked up.  
TT: He was fucked up.  
GT: Im still not following. What does this even have to do with me? It doesnt sound like anything that i did or that you did to me or that we did together.  
TT: Jake.  
TT: I sent you a death robot.  
GT: It wasnt a death robot!   
TT: A fighting robot.  
TT: And I did it to train you.  
TT: I had all these delusions of making you some sort of fearsome badass. A killing machine, if you will.  
TT: It’s not that different from what he did to Dave. Or why he did it.  
TT: Do you get it?  
TT: What he did to Dave, I tried to do to you.   
GT: You really didnt though.  
GT: Dirk that man was raising dave.  
GT: You werent raising me!  
GT: And you know it wasnt that bad most of the time.  
GT: By the time jane had me locked up in the slammer i was actually sort of missing it to be honest.  
GT: Even if it was scary though strider you know its really not the same thing dont you?  
GT: I wasnt sitting there wishing that i could escape you.  
GT: You never cornered me and forced me to fight you.  
TT: But I could have.  
GT: But you didnt.  
TT: But I could have.  
GT: But you didnt!  
GT: Look dirk i see what youre getting at i do and i understand why youre scared.  
GT: But that wasnt you.  
GT: What he did wasnt what you did and you cant keep thinking that youre one to one here!  
TT: But I can’t dismiss it, either.  
TT: And I can’t just say, “oh, that was a different Dirk, I don’t have to take responsibility.”  
TT: Especially when I came so close to doing the same things.   
GT: Dirk …  
GT: I understand you dont get me wrong. Id be scared too.   
GT: But im really worried about how youre taking this.  
GT: Its like youre using it as an excuse to distance yourself and hurt yourself and dirk i cant let you do that all right?  
GT: If youre worried about it then ill give you what for when you start acting up but you need to not do this to yourself.  


He thinks about bringing up the dream, for a long moment. Then he thinks about bringing up what Brain Ghost Dirk said. Then he thinks about telling Dirk about the dog, and thinks about watching movies with Dirk, and thinks about the way Dirk’s face creases when he laughs and the sort of gentle look he gets in his eyes when he thinks Jake can’t see him watching. 

He makes up his mind. He takes the dream, the weary and scared look on Brain Ghost Dirk’s face, and he balls them up and tells himself, _later._

GT: Do you want to come over tomorrow?  



	7. Resting On Your Laurels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk’s brows are furrowed and he seems to really consider what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth and asks, “What’s he like?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _but that's not what I came for, my amour_   
>  _I hate to admit it, but I miss the war_   
> 

He’s wearing those infernal shades when Jake opens the door. He’s got his shoulders hunched like a turtle, a loose black hoodie swathing him and making him look like he’s wearing a circus tent. It’s been warming as the days go by, but Dirk, clad in his loose black jeans and the oversized sweatshirt, looks like he’s ready for autumn. He nods a little when Jake invites him in, his chin jerking quickly down and back up again, and then he ducks inside as Jake holds the door open. The way he folds himself down onto the couch is like watching a hinged, long-limbed doll work itself into an awkward sitting pose, trying for all the world to look unruffled and failing completely. 

He could say something about it, or could even just tell Dirk to loosen up, but instead he just flops down on the opposite side of the couch, and hits the button on his remote that makes _THE MOVEY_ start playing. He knows if someone tried to needle him about his anxieties at a moment like this, he’d just shrink in even more. So instead he leans forward, grabs the bowl of popcorn off the little coffee table, and sets it between him and Dirk like a buffer. 

_THE MOVEY_ is one of the films that Jake hasn’t seen as often as some of the others. It’s a jolting forty minutes long, cutting off right when the most major climactic setpiece starts and never resolving the rest of the plot. There’s a credits reel, but it’s all in Wingdings and some people who took the time to decode it discovered it was just the first ten minutes of the script with the font changed. The soundtrack is all from a band visible in the background of every frame, and it’s not recorded very well. 

Jake’s always respected the authenticity, personally. It’s one of the earliest films in the franchise and he has a sort of appreciation for how proudly and transparently shoestring the budget is — all the money going to the actors, who are well worth it. And besides that, it’s Dirk’s favorite. 

Jake notices for the first five minutes that Dirk keeps glancing over toward him, mouth opening to say something. Considering how fast the plot moves in this flick, that’s not for the best, but then, Jake isn’t really paying attention, either. He picks up handfuls of popcorn as Sweet Bro plummets down the stairs leading to the sidewalk from his front door — all three of them. And eventually, Dirk seems to loosen. His shoulders unshrug themselves and he starts actually paying attention to the movie. By twenty minutes in, he’s sharing tidbits about the filming he learned from the director’s commentary and scouring bits and pieces of his brother’s life together from the internet. When Jake takes a moment to look over at him, he can see the Dirk that he’s been hoping would come back out. That rapt attention, the way he’s barely avoiding smiling by twisting his lips in that way he thinks is wry, the carefully-styled hair, even the shades. It’s the Dirk that he used to date. 

Curiously, the thought doesn’t pang as hard as it did even a week ago. He turns it over. It’s still a little raw, sure, but it’s raw in the way a healing wound is, where a week ago it felt like a new fresh burn with every word spoken in Brokeback Mountain. Now it just feels like … like an unpleasant, but true fact. Not one that’s rubbing raw at him anymore. Maybe it’s knowing that Dirk is dealing with this as roughly as he is that helps — no longer sitting there thinking that Dirk is angry, Dirk hates him, Dirk has moved on to a life without Jake frigging English in it because who would want Jake English around? 

_That_ one still rubs raw. He tucks it away as he returns his attention to the movie. Hella Jeff is proposing a way to get the baeutiful wonan to pay attention to them. It’s out of nowhere. Previously the only characters in the film were Bro and Jeff — it was before the franchise introduced Geromy. The scheme involves a distaction, because of course it does, and there’s a curious noise before Dirk Strider begins laughing. It’s quiet, and by the time Jake looks up at him it’s mostly stopped and Dirk is covering his mouth, but there’s a little pang in Jake’s chest and he realizes suddenly, _oh._

It’s not that he ever thought he’d stopped liking Dirk, necessarily. It was more that, in the craziness of everything that happened, it was all but impossible to think about his feelings for Dirk at all. Within six hours after Dirk had broken up with him, he’d been slapped in jail, broken back out of jail, thrust into an overwhelming group of people he didn’t even really know, assigned battle duties, and then had to carry out those duties against an army of little green men. And that was leaving out the parts about a frog universe being spawned in front of them. The fact that he’d gotten to say word one to Dirk at all was a miracle, and now he’s finding he sort of regrets that the words he said were along the lines of _this has all been overwhelming, and I think maybe I just need some time._

Because Dirk Strider laughing, face honestly crinkling up as he does his best to try and hide the fact that he can have emotions besides disaffected calm, still makes his heart do backflips. It reminds him of how things were at the start. The very start, before they’d been in their empty session long at all and before Dirk had started getting that anxious, afraid look in his eyes every time Jake left to spend the night camping out on LOMAX.

Dirk doesn’t even notice him staring, which Jake is honestly relieved for, because he’s a little bit sure that his face has gone dumbstruck and he’s blushing. He focuses on scooping some more popcorn into his hands and watching the movie. It’s almost over, now, but accordingly, Dirk’s tenseness has unspooled into relaxation and the tight curves of his shoulders have sloped out, draped over the edges of the couch. The hoodie looks a little bit less like a tent when he’s no longer scrunched up like a pillbug. His lips are lightly curved. Just enough that Jake notices, when he looks out of the corner of his eye. The wonan appears onscreen — just from behind, and in a blurry focus with indistinct edges — and then it goes black and smash cuts to the credits.

“I forgot how good it was,” Dirk says. There’s real warmth in his voice. “I actually haven’t watched it since before we came into the session. You know that?” 

“Um,” Jake says, “yeah.” 

Dirk looks up at him and all the lost tension flows back into him like somebody’s let down the floodgates. His shoulders hunch. “Did you,” he says. “Did you not like it?” 

Oh. Jake realizes that he must have looked a bit dumbstruck. He clears his throat. “I liked it just fine!” he hurries to explain. Relief washes over Dirk’s features, though he still tries to school it into neutrality. “I was just … ” He shrugs, laces his fingers together. “I was just thinking about,” he says, thinking of the best way to put this — because he has a feeling Dirk wouldn’t respond well to _I think I might still like you?_ — “about how I haven’t seen you in a while. And especially how I haven’t seen you relax like that in a while?” Since long before the end of the game. As the days went by Dirk had turned into a constant knot of tension. “Or seen you smile,” he mumbles. 

“Oh.” This time Dirk is the one to sound flustered. “Um.” When Jake looks up, Dirk is looking at his lap and his pale, freckly cheeks are distinctly pink. It’s sort of funny, really. For all Dirk is loquacious most of the time, all it takes to fluster him into silence is a little bit of praise. Jake thinks he must have heard that last bit. He’s a little embarrassed, but Dirk doesn’t seem angry, or upset, just — awkward. 

“Sorry,” Jake says anyway. Dirk shrugs, but Jake thinks he sees the flicker of something around the edge of his mouth. There’s a long minute of silence between the two of them, broken by the fart trumpet-y noises of the credits music. Jake takes another handful of popcorn, chomping down on one kernel as a time. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Dirk’s voice is quiet. Jake looks at him as he swallows a mouthful of popcorn. Dirk is looking at the credits rolling over the TV. Not that there’s a whole lot to look at. A whole mess of triangles and spirals and zodiac symbols scrolling in neon green over a bright yellow background. 

“Course you can ask me something,” Jake says. “You can ask me whatever the fuck you like, Strider, you don’t need to be shy.” 

Dirk levels his gaze at Jake. His shades are just translucent enough for Jake to pick out the odd look in his eyes, and for a minute it’s like being thirteen again and reading _You know those painfully obvious hints I’ve been dropping?_ and feeling his heart play hopscotch all over his insides. No, he tells himself. Chill out. Dirk’s brows are furrowed and he seems to really consider what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth and asks, “What’s he like?” 

Jake stares perplexedly at Dirk. The only thing he can figure Dirk means is John, since he’s apparently related-ways with John the same way Dirk is with Dave, but with less decisions to just act like they’re brothers. “He’s … nice?” he wagers, not wanting to sound stupid. 

“The other you,” Dirk says, and tightness tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Since you’ve apparently been having it just as bad as me.” 

This is a bad idea. Jake can see it laid out like a roadmap in his head, all the ways this can go wrong and all the bad reasons Dirk would have for asking this. Is it another way to remind himself of how bad he is? He dithers, hums a little aloud, and hesitates. “I’m not really sure what all there is to say,” he replies. It’s partly true. How does he sum up the person he was in those dreams? The mishmash of experiences he barely even understands when he tries? 

“I’m not … ” Dirk shifts. He sighs, raises his arms, and peels his hoodie off to reveal a plain orange shirt underneath it. The hoodie gets draped over the back of the couch. “I’m not asking just to — make myself feel worse, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” he offers. “It’s not just about how much worse he was than your other version. I just thought … it might be nice to hear about him. Somebody else’s ‘him,’ who isn’t a total and complete psychopath. I don’t feel right asking Dave about it, when … ” It’s like a shutter closes over his entire face. Jake hadn't been aware that Dirk’s expression was near wistful until now, when it’s all gone hard and distant. Suddenly, he has to break the silence. 

“He was lonely a lot.” 

He hadn't been aware that would be the first thing to come out of his mouth, but there it is, in the air between them. And despite his immediate inward cringe, it appears to have been the correct thing to say; Dirk’s chin lifts and he blinks from under his shades. Jake fumbles to continue.

“I mean,” he says. “He was happy, or near as he could be, you know? He did all these amazing things and didn’t think anything of them — explored all over the world! He founded the company that made Sburb! He collected all these big game trophies and he loved collecting all these little eccentricities from all over the world, but I think … ” Jake chews his lip. It’s hard giving voice to all these feelings from across a universe, ones that didn’t belong to him even if they sort of technically did, and he feels a little bit like he’s violating the other one’s privacy. Jackson. That’s what he’s come to realize his name was. Jackson Harley. He gives Jackson an inward mental apology in case he’s getting this all wrong. “All those things were his way of filling the void, I guess. He never really connected with anybody, you know?” Some of it hits way too close to home. He can feel the word faucet starting to open back up. “So since he didn’t have anybody before Jade, he just filled the void with things and told himself it was better that way anyway! And then he found Jade and it was like — this entire new world opened up to him and he was just the happiest person on the dadgummed planet, alone on that island with his dog and his granddaughter and his hundreds of silly little trophies.” 

Dirk is staring at him, lips parted. He doesn’t look bored. Jake prays that he isn’t bored. 

“But when he left Joan — erm, that is, Jane, other Jane — behind, he was just always lonely after that.” He wrings the material of his shorts in his hands as he speaks. “There were a few years when Halley was dead before he found Bec and he was just _miserable,_ Dirk, he kept thinking about going back to see Joan and then thinking that she’d never forgive him for leaving her there and … and … ” 

“He doesn’t sound that different from you,” Dirk murmurs.

Jake’s head snaps up. “If you take that as a sign about your bastard other self, Strider, you can dry right on up.” 

“It’s hard not to,” Dirk says. He’s not looking at Jake. He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. For the first time today, Jake notices he’s wearing those stupid work gloves of his. “Sometimes,” he says, looking at the TV again. The credits are over now. It’s making a high, tinny beeping noise, something like the sound you hear when your ears are ringing, and the background just says DUNKASS in bright red letters on a sea of blue. “Sometimes, Dave will ask me something, or I’ll walk into a room when he’s not expecting me, and I’ll see him jump. He might not even know he’s doing it, but it’s like watching an instant replay of all those shitty fucking dreams, just with a bigger Dave.” He runs a hand through his hair; the gel pokes it resiliently back up into spikes. “The way he tries to make himself small. Like a big cat’s just prowled on into the room and he’s hoping that he’s not on the dinner menu.” 

“Dirk,” Jake says.

“I don’t blame him for it,” Dirk says at once, even though that wasn’t anywhere even close to what Jake was going to say. “It’s not his fault that a monster raised him, and it’s even less his fault that I happen to look like the monster’s younger, skinnier doppleganger.” The tension keeps flowing back into him, quicker than it ever flowed out. His shoulders hunch again. His eyes fall to the floor. 

“I wasn’t going to bloody say you were blaming him!” Jake interrupts. “Would you stop assuming everyone’s thinking the worst of you before you start running your mouth?” Dirk looks up at him, starts to speak up again, but Jake decides he already knows what’s going to be said if he gets words out, so, to hell with that. “Dirk, you’ve got to stop thinking that you own what he did!” 

“I own what I did,” Dirk says. 

Jake catches himself. He doesn't want this to turn into another shouting match like the other night, and the last thing either of them needs is for this to turn into a fight one of them would walk away angry from. So instead of interrupting and turning this into said shouting match, he just sits back, folds his arms, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for Dirk to continue. 

“Maybe not so much what I did to him,” Dirk says after a long minute of hesitation. “But what I did to you.”

“We went over this last night,” Jake replies. He’s aware of his eyebrows furrowing. Is Dirk even frigging capable of listening to other people, or does it all just pump in one ear and out the other? Does he tell himself the opinions of other people don’t count unless they happen to align with whatever specific flavor of self-loathing it’s indulging in today?

Dirk winces at the crankiness in Jake’s tone. Jake doesn’t even bother to feel bad about it. He deserves the reminder. “We did, sort of,” he agrees, “but I think you’re really discounting just how much shit I fucked up, Jake. Maybe I never cornered you and made you fight, but I sure as shit made a robot that did that for me.”

“The robot wasn’t you,” Jake grumbles, because he was already tired of this conversation. He climbs up off the couch, ejecting _THE MOVEY_ from his DVD player and doing his best to look very preoccupid with putting it away. 

“I think you’re understating that.” Jake holds the case open, trying not to glare at the DVD, which has really done nothing to deserve it. “Besides, the autoresponder was,” Dirk counters, apparently not concerned with the finer details of DVD care. 

“The freaking autoresponder,” Jake says, as he closes the DVD case and slides it onto its place on his shelf, “was you at thirteen, Dirk! _And_ you stuck in a freaking computer! You became different people! Unless you want to tell me your secret dream has been to get merged with some weird sweaty horse alien, in which case I think we have a few other things to talk about first!” 

When he looks up, Dirk is holding his hands up in a pose of surrender. “Cool,” he says, slowly, trying for that fake-Texan that always falls apart once he gets upset, “but sometimes the way Dave talks about him reminds me of the way you talked about that bot, and it’s hard not to — ”

“You wanna know what else Jackson Harley was?” Jake cuts him off. “He was a frigging coward. He ran away from life with the batterwitch because he was scared of her. Joan was the brave one. He told himself that she was just scared of adventure but he wouldn’t stay with her and see it through.” It’s a little bit of a falsehood. Jackson Harley was ten times as brave as he could ever be, that’s for sure. “And when it came down to it, he couldn’t even bring himself to go see Joan even after the witch vanished! So if you’re saying you’re just like him, then guess what, I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s incoherent. The point he’s making is the exact opposite of the point Dirk needs to hear, right now, and he hates that he said all of it. It just started pouring out. He needs to stop that.

He hears Dirk breathe in.

“I don’t know,” he says. His voice is very soft. It makes the hair on the back of Jake’s neck stand up. “You came to see me, after it was all said and done. That makes you pretty brave, in my books.” 

There’s a fragile moment there. Jake hesitates to break it, but knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. “If you’re about to say,” he says, his own voice also soft, “that’s the case because you forced me into things, or you scared me off, or — ” 

“No,” Dirk says. He breathes in again. His voice goes even softer next time he speaks. “Just that I don’t think I would have had the balls to do it.” He lets out that sad, cynical laugh, the same one from his own kitchen the other night, the one that makes Jake’s stomach tie in upset knots. “I mean obviously,” he says, “I didn’t up to this point, did I?” 

Jake lifts his head. Dirk is looking down at him and he sorely wishes Dirk would quit wearing those damnable shades everywhere he goes, because it makes it hard to tell how sincere and how open Dirk is actually feeling right now, and how much he’s hiding behind his cool-guy ironic facade. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, because he has to say something, “I’m pretty sure Dave’s brother never would have tried to own up to what he was doing, or apologize to anybody for it. Much less apologize to anybody for what somebody else did while wearing his face! So that makes you miles ahead of him, too, doesn’t it?” 

Dirk’s face softens visibly, even with the shades. “Dave says something like that, sometimes.” Tension starts to slowly loosen again. He sits back on the couch. “If you’re looking for a pick next, we could just watch them in release order,” he suggests, and then, “You know, most people think the baeutiful wonan was a metaphor for the Condesce? Always in plain sight but you can never see her face, and she doesn’t become an actual entity until the flicks made post-Rebranding.” 

Quietly, Jake thinks Dirk may be overestimating his brother’s foreknowledge of the Batterwitch. Still, he picks up _sweet bro and hella jeff the movovie_ and slides it into the DVD player, watching as the piracy warning pops up (written all in Jokerman) and then climbing back onto the couch. There’s still half a bowl of popcorn between them, thanks to the short length of _The Movey,_ so he doesn’t bother with going to make more.

“I hope you understand,” Dirk says, quiet again, as Jake maneuvers through the impossible-to-read DVD menu, “that I didn’t just come here to unload on you about Dave, and — him.” Jake looks up as he finally forces the cursor onto the “play” option. “I’m just … scared of becoming him.” 

“Well,” Jake replies, as he hits play, “you don’t need to have a care in your freaking head about that. Even if you could become that guy — which I doubt! — then you’d have me and Jane and Roxy and Dave all right here to tell you to quit it, alright?” 

It feels like a retread to him. But maybe hearing it aloud and face-to-face is what Dirk needs, because he continues to relax back into his normal noodley, slouchy posture, and nods. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he says.

The movie, or, well, _movovie,_ is a lot longer than the previous one and seems to take the exact opposite approach — three whole hours of shenanigans between Hella Jeff and Sweet Bro, the introduction of Geromy, and instead of cutting off just when the plot seems to get rolling, it doesn’t seem to have a plot at all. Most critics called it plodding and meaningless. Jake thinks it’s brilliant, a real piece of slice-of-life look into the lives of the characters. Dirk likes it because of something with irony and something about skewering the existing Hollywood system and something about making fun of Oscar bait and Jake can remember all the things he’s said if he tries. For now, though, he just sits back and watches it and listens to Dirk’s occasional commentary on what this thing or that thing meant in terms of his brother’s irony or undercover rebellion. 

He becomes aware that something’s up about halfway through the movie, when Dirk hasn’t made a comment in a good twenty minutes. He turns his gaze from the screen and when he’s about to say Dirk’s name, he stops himself when he sees the empty, unfocused stare Dirk has, straight forward at the screen, face completely blank. If his eyes weren’t open, Jake would think he was asleep. Sweet Bro plummets down a flight of stairs and Dirk doesn’t make a single move to comment about the symbolism of stairs in the SBAHJ movies, or about why it became a running gag. He doesn’t even blink.

“Dirk,” Jake says.

Dirk doesn’t respond.

“Dirk!” 

This time, he does. He blinks once, hard, and then turns to look at Jake. “What?” 

“Sorry,” Jake says. “You just, um, seemed to be spacing out, there? Is everything on the up-and-up, pal?” 

Jake already knows everything is very much not on the up-and-up. He needs to talk to Dirk about what Brain Ghost Dirk told him. He needs to tell Dirk _why_ he needs to quit work on the responder and ask him if he really and truly did, or if he’s still going through with whatever his bizarre plan with it is. 

“I’m fine,” Dirk replies. “Just … a little tired, I guess? I must have dozed off.” Jake doesn’t point out that dozing off usually requires having your eyes shut or being asleep, neither of which is true for Dirk circa twenty seconds ago. “Can we get some more popcorn?” 

“Um. Yeah.” 

Though he keeps an eye on Dirk the entire rest of the movie, it doesn’t happen again. Jake convinces himself that maybe it was a fluke, a one-time thing, even though his stomach sinks and he thinks of the fear in Brain Ghost Dirk’s face and the words _there’s not enough of him left._ But as the minutes tick by and they start on _the the film,_ it becomes harder to bring it up. He knows Dirk would take it badly. Probably as an indication of how fucked up his splinters are or something, and things right now with Dirk are so delicate that there’s no good moment to broach the subject. 

But he does inwardly make plans to try and invite Dave and the others out soon, and talk to _them_ about it. 

By the time _the the film_ is over, it’s starting to get late and Dirk makes a few excuses to get going. Some of them are good ones, like that Dave is probably wondering when he’s gonna be home, and some of them aren’t quite as good, like that he’s feeling tired and is gonna go get some sleep — as though Dirk has ever gone to bed at a reasonable hour! But Jake lets him up from the couch and leads him back across the little building to the door. 

“You know,” Jake says, lacing his fingers together again, knowing Dirk can probably read the anxiety in the gesture, “I’m awful pink that you came over here today, Dirk. You didn’t have to and I know you’re nervous about … ” _About being around me, after what happened._

“Pink as in tickled, right?” Dirk says. “In that case, I’m glad I came over, too.” He has his too-big hoodie tied around his skinny waist. He clears his throat. “Thanks for inviting me. I know that you said you wanted — ”

“A month’s worth of space is more than enough,” Jake says. “Don’t you worry about that.” There’s a bunch of other things he wants to say, too. _Did you ever think what’d happen if we gave it another go_ or _Dirk, sometimes I think I still am more than down for an adventure with just the both of us._ But Dirk definitely doesn’t feel that way about either of those things, so he stifles it. He’s here to help Dirk out, not to try and dig up history between the two of them. “Can I hug you?” he asks instead. 

“Uh.” He can see a slight flush paint its way across Dirk’s nose and cheeks. “Sure?” 

So Jake takes advantage of the opportunity. He wraps his arms around Dirk and snuggles his head down into the crook of Dirk’s shoulder and then, just to see if he can still do it, leans back in an attempt to lift Dirk off the ground. Dirk yelps. Jake grins. 

“So that was your plot all along,” Dirk grouses, but he’s smiling faintly when Jake sets him back down. “You motherfucker.”

“I’m just a dastardly sort of fellow!” Jake agrees. He releases Dirk, who makes a show of checking his hair and adjusting the loose knot on his hoodie, even though Jake can tell that he isn’t actually that upset. 

“Right,” he says at last, and clears his throat. “Let’s do this again?” There’s actual worry under the cover of that question. Jake can read him well enough to know that. 

“Just as soon as you’d like,” he confirms, and the faint smile on Dirk’s face breaks briefly into a full grin, teeth and all. It’s like watching the sun part the clouds on a rainy day. 

“Sounds like a plan, then,” he says. “Seeya, English.” 

Jake watches him walk down the path toward the rest of the “city” that’s grown since they arrived here, vanishing into the evening shadows. The moment Dirk’s out of his sight, he fumbles in his pockets for his phone as he closes the door. 

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  
GT: Strider i think we need to have a talk about him.  
GT: Dirk i mean.  
GT: And by “we” i mean a whole shitload of us.


	8. What Side Is This Anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake takes a deep breath. Everyone is looking at him like he’s lost his marbles. He doesn’t even know if he ever even had the damn marbles to begin with. 
> 
> “So,” he says. “Do you remember that stuff we were talking about? About dreams?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _it still twists my head just a bit to think:_   
>  _all the people in those old photographs I've seen are dead_   
> 

When Jake had said “a whole shitload of us” to Dave, he somehow hadn’t expected said shitload to be everyone but Dirk himself. Dave had asked if he could bring Karkat, and of course Jake had said yes. Jake had invited Jane, Roxy, and Callie — how could he not? And Jade had to come along for his own peace of mind. But here he stands in the middle of the clearing and apparently Roxy has invited John, and Karkat has invited Kanaya, and of course Kanaya has come along with Rose. Either Karkat has also invited Terezi or she’s heard about it on her own somehow, and Jake really hopes it’s not the latter, because if it is — well, then, who’s to say Dirk hasn’t also heard through the grapevine somehow? 

The worst part of it, though, he decides as he looks over the group of them, is that he’s going to have to be the one to start the talks this time. He really hates having to do that. Talking in front of them all is bad enough, but being the one who called the whole meeting? And when only half of them know what’s going on. And when he’s still not sure it’s really his story to tell! Dirk should be here. They should be working it out together. 

Not for even remotely the first time today, he regrets everything. His entire dratted life, maybe. He picks up his phone. It’s not too late, he thinks under the low chatter of everyone else’s conversation. 

GT: Dirk?  
GT: Dirk are you there?  
GT: Were all having a big powwow in the clearing just west of town if youd like to come by!   
GT: I think everybody would like to see you here!  
TT: He’s busy.  
GT: Oh hell.   
GT: Tell him to get his keister in here i want to talk to him.  
TT: No can do, bro.  
TT: He’s neck deep in a hella coding session. Looking after some bits and bobs, you might say, in your weirdo old man parlance. Weaving in some ends. Making everything nice and tidy.  
TT: Have your little brainstorm session.   
TT: Don’t worry, English.  
TT: It’ll be our little secret. All eleven of you, and me.  
TT: Just between all twelve of us. 

That’s more discomfiting than anything, and Jake suspects the responder knows it. But there’s so many layers to the ways it upsets Jake. The last little jab about how Dirk is the only one not there. The way it seems to know about what’s happening. But worst of all — maybe? — is the knowledge that Dirk is still coding something, and it could still be the autoresponder. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dirk to keep his promise. But the responder is blocking Jake off. Consciously, and almost definitely to ensure Dirk continues work on something, and that something probably reinforcing it somehow. The responder now is well beyond heebie-jeebie levels. Whatever it’s doing, Jake doesn’t like it. 

But it’s clear that he’s not going to be able to get through until Dirk is the one to pester him, so he leaves it and tucks his phone into his pocket. 

Jade turns to look up at him, her ears perking up. Jake clears his throat and feels a little bit faint when everyone turns to look at him accordingly. He’d sort of been expecting they wouldn’t hear, and Jade would have to do one of those shrill whistles or something. But the conversation falls quiet and there’s so many damned eyes on him and he thinks he’s going to pass out. 

“Um,” he says. He clears his throat again. Everybody keeps right on staring at him. “Well then. Erm. Is everybody doing well today then?” 

“Jaaaake,” Jade sighs.

“I’m sorry!” he hurries to say. “It’s just so hard to know where to start! There’s a kajillion things to talk about and — ”

“Is this about Dirk?” 

Roxy, as usual, is the one with the insight to the situation. Jake feels his chin jerk toward her, and if anything that just makes her already-worried face cave in even more with concern. She rolls forward to sit on her knees instead of cross-legged, hands on her thighs. 

“Okay,” she says, “good, because I gotta bring up to everybody, if y’all didn’t know, that he’s making another fricking autoresponder. Lil Hal Junior Junior Senior or some shit. And it is unpleasant as fuck!”

Dave audibly groans. Jake doesn’t, but he sure feels a surge of _same buddy_ in his chest.

“I really fucking hoped nobody else got subjected to that thing,” Dave says before Jake can ask Roxy what all she said to it or it said to her or what have you. And if Dirk himself has bothered talking to her directly yet, or if Jake’s the only one he’s speaking to just yet. “Jake and I thought we had talked him out of working on it.” 

“Well,” Jake dithers, even though if anything his conversation just now proves the opposite, “maybe he has stopped! But he just hasn’t shut it off yet, and … ” He doesn’t have a way to finish that statement. Maybe because it’s so ridiculous to begin with. Roxy clearly thinks it is; she lets out a loud _pff_ of air through her lips. 

“Like hell!” she announces. “Jake, come on, you know him! Are we gonna have to march in there and smack him with a newspaper like some kind of misbehaving dog?” 

“I have practice with that,” Jade offers. 

“Well.” The solemnity in his own voice appears to take the good humor out of Jade’s comment before anyone even has a chance to react to it. Roxy’s eyes suddenly narrow, eyebrows furrowing. Jane tilts her head, and her eyebrows knit tight together too. Callie — Callie just looks at the ground. She looks vaguely like she’s about to cry. _Can_ cherubs cry? He’s never wondered. Jade coughs awkwardly. Dave … Dave just nods at him. “Well,” Jake repeats. “Possibly. That’s what I sort of called this whole thing about?” 

It’s odd, how even though Brain Ghost Dirk isn’t real, he can still feel the ghost’s hand clap down on his shoulder in solidarity. He breathes deep. 

“Does this have to do with your spooky pet raspberry?” Terezi asks and Jake jerks toward her.

“Pet what?” Jane says, flat. 

“Um,” Jake says, and laughs anxiously. He can see the way Dave’s eyebrows rise. Karkat isn’t looking at him, which is sort of a relief, but he _is_ staring at Terezi. All but glaring, really. 

“Oh, please!” Terezi makes a show of waving one hand in the air. “Do none of you remember when Strider Two: Creamsicle Edition popped up out of nowhere?” When Jake looks around, everyone looks just as confused as he feels. Terezi’s own face, in fact, joins in the confusion as nobody responds to her. She turns her head from one side to the other, takes in a deep whiff of air. And then — crumples a little. All the devil-may-care dismissiveness and condescension is gone from her voice when she continues, “No, I guess none of you would.” She traces a finger into the dirt she’s sitting in. It’s to be a symbol Jake vaguely recognizes, but he’s not sure where from. “How annoying.” There’s a tiny note of the sharpness again. 

“It’s Brain Ghost Dirk,” Jake says, when Terezi has gone quiet for long enough that he doesn’t feel he’s going to interrupt her. 

“Brain Ghost Dirk,” Jane echoes, disbelieving, and then, after another moment, her face goes from confusion to surprise. “I thought you were making him up!” 

“I —” Jake starts, defensively, but this time Terezi does interrupt him. 

“Of course he made him _up!_ Pay attention, Crocker!” She raises a hand to point directly at Brain Ghost Dirk. Jake glances at him. He, thankfully, appears to be pretty unruffled, which is more than Jake can say for himself right now. He’s wearing the Prince duds again, though, which Jake supposes explains the “raspberry” part. “He is a brain phantom who only exists because Grandpa Bananadad is just such a special snowflake! Hope players, I swear!” 

“He’s not all me, he’s part Dirk,” Jake snaps before she can keep going, “and stop friggin calling me that! My name is Jake! I don’t know how you haven’t caught onto that already!” 

“Jake.” 

Roxy is sitting with her arms folded and her legs crossed, and her eyebrows are arched upward with concern. Jake rubs the back of his neck. Roxy’s gaze gets really intense when she’s actually crazy worried for people. If anything, it gets even more intense when she sees Jake hesitate. 

“ _Does_ this have to do with this brain ghost of yours?” 

“In a way,” Jake says. “But not really.” Is it really that important for anyone else to know that Brain Ghost Dirk has something to do with this? That he even appears to have some sort of connection to what _Dirk_ might be seeing? No. Definitely not. In fact, the idea of talking about it with anyone besides Dirk makes him feel sick. Even the idea of talking about it with Dirk himself makes him feel kind of ill. He’s not ready to go through the finer details of Dirk’s splinter lodged deep inside his own mind and what it means that he’s there in the first place and

Dirk’s slim pale fingers snap in front of his face and for an instant he forgets that it’s just that same splinter.

“Focus,” he says. His voice has a sort of muted quality to it, like it’s coming from speakers on the other side of a long hallway. “We can talk about the rest of that later. You and me, or just you and him. Or all three of us, if you want.” 

He doesn’t want to think about that, either.

“So don’t. Focus on what you’re here for.” The ghost nudges his shoulder against Jake’s. “Which is him, right? Do it for him.” 

Jake takes a deep breath. Everyone is looking at him like he’s lost his marbles. He doesn’t even know if he ever even had the damn marbles to begin with. 

“So,” he says. “Do you remember that stuff we were talking about? About dreams?” 

“About that,” Jane says, and curls her hands together into fists. 

“Yes,” Rose says, and takes Kanaya’s hand. “About that, indeed.”

Jake is astonished to find that this time when he looks around the circle, almost nobody seems to be looking at him anymore. Kanaya and Rose are looking at each other. Jane is looking at her lap. Karkat is glancing from Dave, over to Terezi, then back at Dave, who is only looking at him. Calliope is curled into a tight ball and a barely-audible noise squeaks out of her throat as Roxy reaches forward to rub her back. Even Jade won’t meet his eyes. In fact, John is the only one with his eyes still on Jake, and even then, he glances around like he’s not exactly sure what everyone is on about, either. 

“Um,” John says, which takes the stress of breaking the silence off Jake’s shoulders, at least. “What’s everybody suddenly so quiet about?” 

“What do you fucking think, smartshit?” Karkat snaps. “Obviously everyone here who _wasn’t_ already is having adventures in Happy Memory Funland now, too!” He folds his arms, scowls, and thumps his shoulder back against Dave’s as he all but flops backward. Dave loops an arm around him. Still a little shy about it. There’s a pang in his gut that Jake tries to ignore. Then Brain Ghost Dirk slides an arm around his shoulder. 

“I can take a hint,” he says. Jake’s instinct is to shove him away, but he enjoys it just this one time. 

“Well,” John says, furrowing his eyebrows, “what makes you think that?” 

“I’m having them too,” Karkat snaps. “You think everyone here just got all quiet because they were thinking really hard about how to fix up Dirk Strider? They just got so caught up in his existential crisis that it made them all speechless. Yeah! Super believable!” 

“We _are_ here about Dirk,” Roxy says. She doesn’t sound very convincing. Calliope makes a high, whining noise, like a dying animal. Roxy rubs her back. 

“All of you?” Jake asks, and then, “All of us, I mean? I still am, and everything.” 

There’s a chorus of nods, except for Calliope, who just shudders and curls up tighter. And, still, except for John, who still just looks completely baffled. He looks from one side to the other, turning his entire head as he does, big blue eyes utterly befuddled and roughly the size of dinner plates.

“ _Everybody?_ ” he says. “Really? Wow.” 

“Honestly, John, at this point we ought to be the ones ‘wow’ing you,” Rose replies. She doesn’t roll her eyes, even though her tone definitely sounds like she thinks she ought to. “We all imagined that this would happen to all of us sooner or later. You’re the odd man out, at this point — and when you’re also the only man out, that begs the question of why.” 

“That’s what it’s about, then,” Jade says. Her ears droop. “Dirk’s having those dreams, too? I mean, you said this was about him, and then you brought up the dreams.” She looks less sad than the rest. If she is having those dreams, then — then Jake wants to sit down and fold his hands into hers and ask her what she remembers. What she knows. What his Grandma was feeling before the witch came down and destroyed what had been a happy life for the two of them. He reins himself in, but more than that, he’s inwardly relieved that Jade hasn’t overwhelmed him with all the questions she must have, too. He’ll have to remember to thank her for it later. 

“Yeah,” Dave says in a voice barely above a mumble. “Has been. Didn’t want to bring it up before, but we’re reaching terminal velocity here. Shit is well and truly messed up and it ain’t unmessing itself in any hurry.” It’s not the first time Jake has noticed Dave’s Texan accent leaking through, but it is the strongest that it’s been. He’s talking low but fast. “The responder shit is all just aftermath. Him not talking to nobody? That’s just aftermath too. It is well and truly fucked up and it’s just sort of lingering in its own damn mess.”

“Dave, ewwww,” John comments, wrinkling his nose. Dave shrugs. 

“Look,” Jake says, trying not to let things get any further off target than they have, “yes, so, Dirk’s having the same sort of dreams. He’s probably been having them the longest and the most vividly of any of the lot of us from what I figure.” Rose’s lips are tightening. He’s not sure what she’s thinking. Her eyes dart toward Dave, who doesn’t look at her. Karkat does look at her. But then he looks back at Terezi. “And um, well … ” What he intended to say was what Brain Ghost Dirk told him. About Dirk stretching himself too thin, about there not being enough of him left, but he can’t figure out a way to put it that doesn’t make him sound loopy. “It’s really getting to him,” he finishes lamely. 

“It seems to be getting to all of us,” Jane says. “I — I’ve only had one, to be honest with you.” She shifts a little, back and forth, against the coat of green, green grass. “I thought maybe — maybe that was all it was going to be. Sporadic.”

“I haven’t had such luck,” Kanaya says. She’s never as dry as Rose gets sometimes. Her tone, in fact, is fairly flat. She’s got her fingers knotted tight with Rose’s and she is carefully staring at absolutely nothing at all. “To tell the truth,” she adds, a moment later, “my dreams are not even truly that disquieting. But it is — different. A different place, and a different me. Although, I do not think any of us can really begin to relate to Dirk, if — ” She cuts herself off like she was about to say something impolite. 

“If he was as big a monster as you’ve all figured out,” Dave finishes for her. “Let’s just put that shit on the table. Yeah. He was. And yeah. It’s fucking him up.” 

Jane and Roxy glance at each other. Jane takes over Callie duty — Jake isn’t even sure what he’s meant to make of what her dreams would be like. As if responding to that thought, Jade hops up and scurries on over to the two of them. Roxy, meanwhile, turns around and addresses everybody there.

“This is a hella problem,” she says, “considering that Dirk’s opinion on himself on a _good_ day is basically that he’s the least stinky shit in a clogged-ass toilet.” 

“Ewww, Roxy,” John interrupts. She waves a hand at him. He settles back against the tree behind him — but his lips are still a little bit parted and if anything, he looks slightly nervous. Unsure of what to say, maybe; Jake knows that feeling better than anybody and it’s a bit like what’s playing over John’s face. But there’s something deeper, too. Jake can’t put a finger on it. 

“Believe me,” Jake says. “That’s definitely why I called everybody out here.” He feels bone-weary, now. Exhausted and just ready to move on to next week or next month when this is all over and Dirk Strider isn’t having dreams about what a monster he is and they’re …

He abandons that thought before it grows legs. Brain Ghost Dirk snorts into his ear. _Dirk doesn’t want that anymore,_ he mentally shouts. The ghost just snorts again. Jake reminds himself that he’s only part Dirk, and the rest is his own mind making echoes of what he wants and wishes, like the shadow puppets his grandmother used to do against the wall. This one is a dog. This one is a duck. This one is a Dirk that still wants to be with him. 

“You are such a Debbie Downer,” the ghost says, which proves it, because as if Dirk would ever say that phrase.

“So,” Roxy says, “what do we do about it?” 

“What can we do, exactly?” Rose asks. “Even with our best efforts to try and tamp down Dirk’s personal hellscape, the rest of us are still going to be dealing with our own. And while I assure you I am more than used to dreams of my own death … ” She raises a hand into the air, waves her fingers around at the rest of the circle. “I doubt most anybody else has. Aside from Dave, I suppose, as we’ve already covered.” 

“So what.” 

Terezi raises her head from where she’s been staring at the dirt. She stares forward, then looks around. Everyone — except, still, Calliope, and Jade, who’s wrapped arms around the little cherub — has turned to look at her.

“Well?” she continues, when no one interrupts her. “What do you think happens from here? You and Raspberry-Orange Syrup all have a great big feelings jam about how he doesn’t need to worry about those dreams! Then they magically all go away and nobody here ever has to worry about them again!” As she talks, she pushes herself upward, throws her palms out in a _ta-da!_ gesture. “Well, I certainly wish the entire lot of you luck! It must be nice to think your misery, and his misery, has such an easy cure! I hope you all enjoy hugging it out.” Then she reaches down to grab her cane. “As for me,” she says, and whirls around toward the treeline. “I don’t want anything to do with it. Have fun!” 

She stalks off. There’s silence among everybody for a long minute. Jake feels like there are five or six layers to what just happened that he completely missed. After the silence has lingered, Rose’s head turns to follow the line of Terezi’s advance toward the trees. Kanaya turns to look at Karkat. Karkat is already saying something to Dave in a noise that would be generous to call a whisper. Jake hears “have to go after her” before Dave gives a quick nod, at which point Karkat scrambles to his feet and runs after her, shouting “Terezi!” as he goes. 

“Well,” Jane says, voice awkward, brow furrowed, “I guess that sort of puts a fork in it, doesn’t it?” 

“Hm,” is all Rose says, though she certainly has a look on her face like she wants to add more. Dave rubs his forehead. Calliope looks up through eyes that are wide and glossy with tears, which answers the question about whether cherubs can cry. 

“Well,” Jake says. He swallows. “All I was going to say, really, was that if we can — make an effort to drag him out of there?” He smiles. It feels weak. “He can’t properly keep working on the responder if we keep him busy, and maybe if he has a reminder that we’re all here, the — the dreams will quit bothering him so much?” It rings so hollow.

“It’s a good idea,” Brain Ghost Dirk says. Jake glances over at him. This would all be so much easier if he could just get Brain Ghost Dirk to explain to everybody what’s going on, because when he tries to put the words together in his head they turn into a meaningless jumble of nonsense. Stuff about splinters and extra Dirks, one of whom is in his own noggin? If he was real …

“Does anybody else see that?” John pipes up at last. He still looks anxious. He raises a finger and points. 

Straight at Brain Ghost Dirk. 

The ghost unslings his arm from Jake’s shoulders and looks down at his hands. Now that Jake looks, he can see — flickering? Almost? Like an image on an old TV, or a radio station fading in and out of static. Brain Ghost Dirk looks up at him. He can see the pinpricks of orange underneath the shades. The impassive facade has given way to surprise. Is it the Dirk bits of him, or just Jake’s own mind? 

“No, you’re right.” Kanaya’s eyes are big like a cat’s as she sits up and peers toward Jake. Brain Ghost Dirk turns to look at her. When Jake looks down, he can see the beginnings of a shadow, fading in and out. Flickering. He looks back up at the wondering, befuddled face of Brain Ghost Dirk. There’s weight to his cheekbones. The dusting of his freckles across his nose is more detailed. There’s a pimple appearing on one of his nostrils. Flickering out as he loses substance. Reappearing. Disappearing. Jake tries to grip onto whatever’s making it happen, to that wish he had to just let Dirk explain it himself, but it dissipates. It’s like trying to grip sand. The harder he grasps, the faster it slides away, and the pimple vanishes and his freckles thin out and then even the rest of him fades, fades, until he’s gone, and it’s just Jake.

“It’s gone,” Rose says, to put a cap on it. Jake tries to summon him back up. He thinks of Dirk’s smile and the genuine looseness of Dirk’s shoulders when they watched movies. It all seems so far away and unreal. It’s gone. He’s gone. 

“Well,” he says, trying to sound brave, or confident, or like that was his intention all along, “that was Brain Ghost Dirk.” He turns and flashes his best leading man smile at everybody. “Guess he had better places to be!” Jade looks unconvinced. Jane looks worried. Roxy … Roxy looks upset. “But it doesn’t really matter, anyway,” he adds, in a hurry. Roxy is staring at him like he’s a pane of glass and she can see right through him. Like there’s some secret on the other side that the world isn’t supposed to know. A rogue sneaking into his vaults and stealing away his secrets. 

“Jake,” she attempts. 

“We’re here about Dirk,” he says. It’s thin and fragile. “So let’s just talk about Dirk.” 

Karkat doesn’t come back the entire time they’re talking. Everyone throws out an idea or two. Calliope wipes her eyes and offers some tremulous suggestions. They come away with a plan to have a picnic — just the four of them from the second session and Callie, for now. Dave promises to try and get Dirk out of his room more. Once they think he’s feeling better, they’ll make more plans. For the whole group, all of them. Maybe even Terezi, if she stops, in Jade’s words, “acting like a crazy person.”

He still doesn’t feel any better by the time they break. He lingers as people part into groups again. Dave lingers and looks in the direction Karkat and Terezi ran off in, but then turns and walks the other way. Roxy and Jane stand close together, talking. Roxy gives Jake a furtive glance. He waves. She turns back to Jane, who in turn looks at him with worry on her face. Jade hauls Calliope up in a piggyback and runs off with her shouting for Jade to put her down. Rose and Kanaya loop their hands together and walk, slowly, away. 

When someone bumps his shoulder from behind, his first thought is that it’s Dirk. Then that it’s Brain Ghost Dirk. Then blue segues into his vision and it’s John, looking as lost as Jake feels, right now. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asks. 

Yeah, Jake knows he should say. He doesn’t. He smiles and raises a shoulder and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

“I … really wish I could help.” John looks away, scuffs a foot into the dirt. “It’s weird, you know? Everyone else going through this and me being the odd one out. Last time I figured maybe it was just luck, but now it’s seeming like maybe I’m more like the _unlucky_ one. And I want to be here for everybody, but I don’t know if I can be when I don’t — I haven’t — “ He flounders. Scuffs his other foot. Everybody else has gone back to wearing normal, everyday clothes, but John still spends half his days in his windsock hoodie and yellow slippers. It suits him, somehow. 

“Don’t feel like you’re missing out,” Jake says. John shrugs. “I mean, Jade’s gramps had a pretty good life, all told,” he continues, even as he turns to start back toward his little can, clear on the other side of the woods from the rest of the burgeoning little village, away from everybody else except Jade. “But it still feels like hell, living through it, sometimes.” He leaves out the stuff about his dreams of dying in the session. And definitely leaves out the dream of being Dirk. John doesn’t need to know about that. It’s not like he could help. 

John sighs. “That doesn’t actually help a lot,” he says, “to be honest with you. I almost wish I was having dreams about it. About Jane’s grandpa.” Then a bit of light peaks through his gloom. “She calls him _poppop,_ ” he says with a level of delight in his voice that’s only possible when you think you’re sharing a secret. Jake decides not to tell John that he knows that already. He just grins, and John grins back, and he’s glad he could at least help _one_ person feel better, today. 

They don’t get much further before John peels off, wishing Jake luck. Jake walks the rest of the way to his little can alone, taking his time, slowing his pace and watching as the wind blows and butterflies flap on by and the world looks ten times too perfect to be as messed up as it feels right now. It’s still bright outside and he thinks if calendars still mattered it’s probably getting close to June or so, if he’s going off the weather. On days like this back on his island, he’d get out his jug and go for water at the spring and maybe explore the frog temple a bit on the way there or back. But he’s had his fill and he just wants to go home and watch a movie and decompress and try, really honestly try, to figure out how to talk to Dirk about the responder. 

He’s closing the door behind him when his phone buzzes. 

TT: Hey.  
TT: Are you there? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [stormsbourne!](http://stormsbourne.tumblr.com)


	9. The Clouds Are Clearing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _they tell you not to plan too far,_   
>  _but I'm already miles ahead_   
>  _and I plan to be wherever you are._   
> 

Jake crosses the room and drops onto the couch. He can already feel the smile spreading across his face, even though everything in his gut is still churning like a whirlpool. There’s a million things spinning around his head and he knows he really _needs_ to talk to Dirk about the meeting. Or at least — at the very, very least — say that the meeting happened, so Dirk doesn’t feel like he’s been left out or ignored or that people are trying to exclude him. Which is definitely what Jake would worry about, in his shoes.

But first things first.

GT: Oh wowzers bro i didnt think id be hearing from you today!   
GT: Call me kooky if you want but i had it gummed up in my head that you were going to be too busy with something or another.  


He thinks about it, but decides bringing up the responder isn’t important for the moment.

GT: Anyway im here and i assume youre looking for a listening ear which im definitely here to provide!   
TT: This is a bit enthusiastic, even for you.   
GT: Thats a bunch of balderdash. Im always enthusiastic! Especially when im in this good of a mood.  
GT: *cocks his finger pistols in preparation to fire!*  
TT: Okay, well, get all your weird bullshit out now, because I am actually about to get hellishly serious up in here.   
TT: I meant to talk to you sooner, but Pesterchum was being fucking weird. I think its programming might be futzing out now that we’re in this new world?  
TT: Maybe it’s still synced to some sort of old earth servers or …  
TT: Who knows. Whatever.  
TT: Anyway.  
GT: *raises an eyebrow*  
TT: What I’m driving at here is,  
TT: Well.  
TT: I don’t know, really.  
GT: If i didnt know any better id think you were nervous the way youre doing a mexican hat dance around the subject of whatever this is.  
TT: If I put aside the self-aggrandizing and mock offense at the very concept,  
TT: Will it make you faint if I actually admit to that?  
GT: Erm.  
GT: Well should it?  
TT: I’m just trying to be more, uh,  
TT: Forthright.  
TT: With what’s on my mind.  
TT: Blame Karkat for that one.   
GT: Oh well that explains it then.  
GT: I was starting to worry that maybe wed had our own private attack of the bodysnatchers.  
TT: I somehow think that you would have noticed that sooner, with your expert knowledge of said film.  
GT: Ah-ah! No sir flattery will not get you anywhere today strider and youre definitely trying to distract me.  
GT: What are you nervous about anyhoo?   


The problem is, of course, that Jake is nervous, too. Parts of his head and his heart are disagreeing on what’s going on here and what they _want_ to be going on and it’s making him a little bit dizzy. Maybe what Dirk wants is to see him again. But on the other hand, maybe what Dirk wants is to tell him that he thinks this isn’t going to work and they should keep a distance from now on. The latter of those actually makes his stomach sink and in an instant he can see it all laid out within his mind, the grisly future: Never seeing Dirk again as anything but a line of orange text, spotting him from a distance one day when they’re both full grown and Dirk turning away. His daydreams have always been fairly detailed, and this one is no different. The grass around them is emerald green and the wind’s blowing and Dirk’s clearly taller and somehow even lankier and Jake can make out the smudge of his shades under the fluffy cloud of his red hair as he turns away and —

Okay. No. Calm down. He breathes in, breathes out, counts to ten. He tries to remind himself that he and Dirk have had approximately 5 hours together since this whole thing started, and even if Dirk does think it’s a bad idea (which Jake _prays_ isn’t the case), it’s not like him to give up on anything that quickly. Unless — maybe Karkat said something about that too? He chews his lip.

“Oh my fucking god.” He’s not even surprised by Brain Ghost Dirk’s voice coming out of nowhere anymore. The ghost is perched on the end of the couch and is staring up at the ceiling the exact way Dirk does when he’s exasperated. “Would you get out of your own damn head about this?” he grouses, and taps a transparent finger against the phone screen. “Watching you two fucking wander around each other in the dark is fucking aggravating, and I’m part you, so that ought to say something.” 

“Now, see here!” Jake blusters. He might be floundering, but he’d never describe himself as aggravated. Confused, sure. Scared, for certain! But aggravated? No, not really. 

“Don’t you even start, dude,” the shade of Dirk counters. “I mean, I’m not _all_ you. The aggravation, in fact, I’d call specifically me, since I’ve got bits of both you fuckwads in here and can see the ways you’re reaching past each other.” He lowers his head and gives Jake a deadpan look over the angled edge of his shades. Dirk used to do that all the time. Jake is once again left wondering how much of the ghost is itself, and how much is just — his memories and observations of Dirk, even ones he didn’t realize he was making. “Though,” the ghost continues, and the deadpan look goes contemplative, as he slightly wrinkles his nose — also something Dirk used to do, “the fact that I’m calling it that suggests maybe you know more about it than you’re letting on.” Then he smirks. “What a shock, right?” 

“Oh, shut your freaking piehole,” Jake grumbles, and decides not to think too deeply about what the ghost said, instead — as it requested — returning his attention to his phone only to realize Dirk has been doing what Dirk does best: rambling into the silence. 

TT: That’s really the hardest part of this to dig into, to be honest.  
TT: I mean, as far as digging into it, “it” is a fucking stories-deep hole of shit. We’re talking literal shit, here. Not “shit” as in “stuff at the edges of the hole.”   
TT: “Shit” as in full on feces.  
TT: And in this situation, I’m the helpless sap at the bottom of the fucking hole, trying, like a numbskull, to dig my way out. Because that works, right?   
TT: I’m not sure I’m explaining myself well.  
TT: Your silence is sort of serving as an indication, here.  
TT: To try and be more forthright, since that advice keeps coming back up,  
TT: I’m nervous about pretty much everything.  
TT: I know we’ve only recently even started hanging out again, but putting the sort of shit that Dave’s lived through out of my head is a lot easier said than done.   
TT: And the stuff I did to you.  
TT: Before you interrupt to sass me about that again, by the way, yeah, I know it’s not the fucking same.  
TT: It’s still enough to make me anxious.   
TT: It’s less that it was the same, and more that I can see how my thought processes with it might have led to his.  
TT: With other things.   
GT: Jeepers dirk would you calm the flip down.  
GT: I get distracted for two seconds and you fly off the handle like youre a gymnast doing some kind of fancy twirl!   
TT: It’s called a pirouette.  
GT: Well whatever and who cares is what i have to say to that! To the fancy twirl as well as everything else you just said.  
GT: You and i both know im sick of going over your martyr complex about the robot or whatever and to be honest about everything else too.  
GT: I promise dirk youve got nothing to be nervous about around me.  
GT: Im inviting you over and things because i want to.  
GT: Because i miss you remember? Im pretty sure i said that a couple weeks ago when this whole uh dream nonsense started up.   
TT: I remember.  
GT: Ok well then maybe for once you could try to get out of your own head and trust me?  
GT: I wouldnt have lied to you about that.  
GT: And you know that it was before we were even really talking again so its not like you forced me into it or worked some fancy doubletalk on me to make me think it!   
GT: It was a hundred percent verified genuine jake english!   
GT: You believe me on that right?  
TT: I want to.  
GT: That makes it sound like you cant.  
TT: I.  
TT: It sort of does, doesn’t it.  
GT: I know its hard for you to take people at their word without getting sideways and upside down and backwards about why theyre saying what they are dirk but please just trust me.  
GT: Im here because i want to be.  
GT: Since youre trying to be more forthright i will be too. We can do it together itll make it easier for both of us.  
GT: And this is me being completely absitively posilutely forthright!  
GT: So you can be sure im saying all this from the heart ok?  
TT: … Ok.   
TT: I trust you.  


Something about that makes Jake break into a smile and he feels his heart do a little clicking-heels-together skip like it’s prancing down the yellow brick road on its way to see the wizard.

“You have got it so fucking bad,” the ghost of Dirk advises. “You could just tell him that, you know. Cut to the chase.” The thought immediately smothers Jake’s pleasure and fluttery heart and replaces it with a fluttery stomach instead. He gives Brain Ghost Dirk a horrified look, and in turn Brain Ghost Dirk heaves a sigh. “Fine,” he replies. “Be that way. Just don’t say I didn’t try to help.” 

Jake tries to recapture that giddy relief, but it’s long gone, spirited away into the wind blowing outside the window. If he looks he can see the wind chimes Jade made for him shimmering and dancing. He needs to talk to Dirk about the meeting with the others. He needs to talk to Dirk about the autoresponder. He needs to talk to Dirk about the things Brain Ghost Dirk has been telling him.

He _wants_ to talk to Dirk about literally anything else. He wants to talk to Dirk about Dave and Jade and what it’s like having family around, even if they’re not technically the same family. He wants to talk to Dirk about trolls and carapace people and the empty earth around them and his island and whether it’s dried out. He wants to talk to Dirk about movies and TV and listen to Dirk try to explain Plato or Socrates or whoever to him for the fifteenth time. He wants …

No. He isn’t allowed to want more than that. And Dirk doesn’t want what he wants, anyway, which is _why_ he’s not allowed.

“Oh my god,” Brain Ghost Dirk repeats. Jake ignores him. 

GT: So anyways since were all big on TRUSTING EACH OTHER right now …  
GT: You should trust me when i say we ought to have another movie day!  
GT: Or a picnic! Or both or neither i dont really care but my point is that yesterday was really nice and i missed just hanging out.  
GT: Being bros and things you know.   
GT: I mean you always were my best friend.  
TT: Yeah?  
TT: I mean, yeah.  
TT: I’d … I’d really like that.   
GT: It cant be tomorrow ive got a commitment. A secret commitment mind you so dont go asking!   
GT: But maybe the day after or something?   
GT: I dont know im sure you have plans of your own so whenevers fine.  
TT: Having any plans for tomorrow, much less ever, is kind of new, to be honest.   
TT: I haven’t had any in a while. I’ve been trying to keep to myself.  
TT: Anyway, how actually secret is this secret commitment? You have a history of saying something is top secret as an effort to get people to ask.  
TT: Like everything with your “penpal.” Man. You were fucking desperate to get everybody to ask for details.  
TT: And you know Jane didn’t even believe you until we got in the Medium. Remember how she kept talking how she thought you were getting scammed?  
TT: Ever the skeptic.  


There’s something nice about going back to conversations like this. Simple ones, about things that happened before the world went to hell. Brain Ghost Dirk has only scoffed once since his last comment, but when Jake looks up at him, he’s still there — even if he does look a little bit hazier around the edges, somehow. It’s tempting to indulge Dirk about this — he’s not wrong about when Jake used to hint about Jade. But he contains himself.

GT: Its a real secret this time im afraid!  
GT: Its a hell of a doozy too youre probably going to faint on the spot when you find out what it is.  
GT: But i think things have been going good so hopefully it wont be too much longer.   
TT: I’m still not convinced that you’re not on the very edge of dropping details.  
GT: *zips his lip!*   
TT: Alright, alright. Hint taken.  
TT: If not tomorrow, then how’s Thursday?   
GT: I dont have the foggiest how you and roxy are even keeping track of what day it is. I think maybe i need to get one of you to give me a calendar.   
TT: Well, to be honest, I mostly know because I live with a literal god of time.  
TT: I can even ask him and he can spit out the hour and minute and second like a damn stopwatch. Sorta freaky, if I’m gonna be real.   
GT: Makes you wonder what sorta stuff you could recite off the top of your head if he asked!   
TT: Not especially.   
TT: Is Thursday fine, then?   
GT: Thursdays capital bro dont sweat it.  
GT: Ill get the snacks and the movies all set up and you can come on over and well do whatever!   
TT: Great.  
TT: And … thanks. For putting up with my shit, and for putting up with me thanking you for putting up with my shit.  
TT: I know I tend to be a bit of a broken record.   
GT: Were working on it strider and one of these days well patch you together again no sweat.  
TT: Cool. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon, then.  


Wait. No, he has to —

GT: One last request though dirk!  
TT: Yeah?  
GT: Can you shut that responder of yours off?  
TT: Not right now.   
TT: You know how I feel about things like that.  
GT: But you said turning it off was always part of the plan.  
TT: Eventually.  
TT: Not now.  
GT: Can you at least freaking take pesterchum away from it then.  
TT: I already did, dude.  
TT: You shouldn’t have to see it ever again.  
TT: Don’t worry. I’ve got a handle on it.   
GT: Oh.  
GT: Ok then i guess.  
TT: Is something wrong?  
GT: Im not sure.   
GT: At least try not to spend all day working on it tomorrow ok?   
TT: No sweat. Karkat and Dave have some kind of plans they’re dragging me along for.   
TT: I’ll see you Thursday.  
GT: Yeah.  
GT: Ill see you dirk.  


When he doesn’t get a response, he sighs and looks up. Brain Ghost Dirk is still there, barely. He’s a smudge of color against the dark gray walls of Jake’s house and the green of his sofa. Jake tries once again to grasp onto the feeling he had earlier, where he wanted so badly for Dirk to be there that the ghost nearly became real. The ghost solidifies, gains a little bit of form — but besides that, nothing happens. He looks up at Jake.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, dryly. “When are you going to actually tell him about what I said?”

Jake sighs. He wishes, for real and not just out of testing his boundaries, that Dirk was here so he could sit up and lean onto Dirk’s shoulder. So he could take comfort from a real person. A single one, not the massive group from earlier when he felt like he was drowning in a sea of conversation. Just one singular person. Quiet peace. The ghost flickers, but doesn’t turn solid.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. The ghost doesn’t say anything else.

* * *

There’s a black office binder and a steaming cup of coffee on the table before him. Rain is falling outside, heavy and constant. It’s cascading down a sheer pane of glass on his right, against bare white walls that remind him of Grandma’s tower, before the Condesce blew it up. A single door closes off the room, and across the table sits a woman who is so unmistakably Roxy that, for a long moment, Jake thinks this is just a normal dream. She’s writing something in scrawling, lovely cursive on a blank sheet of paper. 

“The girl’s safe?” 

It’s that same voice. That old man’s voice, rough and worn with age, the voice he knows belongs to the other him. When he looks down, one aged and spotted hand reaches out to take hold of his coffee, take a drink. It’s black and bitter as he swallows it down. The woman looks up from her writing. Her eyes are that same shade of pink and he’s once again struck by her. Her face has Roxy’s same heart shape, hair flipping out near her shoulders, tousled curls across her brow. She’s dressed like a scientist, in a labcoat that buttons up to her collar. 

“She’s fine,” the woman says. “Perfectly unscathed, just like you said she would be. I don’t exactly fathom how an infant survives a meteor impact, but you’ve already been fairly frank that most of this isn’t going to make sense.” She sets down her pen and picks up her own cup, but only after she’s pulled a flask out of her breast pocket and poured the contents into it. Then she takes a deep drink and lets out a content breath as she sets it back down. “Blonde,” she continues, poking a finger down onto the page she’s been writing, “violet eyes, seven pounds and eight ounces, twenty-one inches. Ten fingers, ten toes. They’re doing some tests on her downstairs in medical right now.” 

A hum rumbles in his throat. He sets his own cup down, and a murky reflection stares up at him from the surface — only visible thanks to the stark walls and a bright fluorescent light overhead. His face is an old man’s face, mouth trimmed with a well-groomed mustache, hair gone all gray with a few white streaks. His hairline’s receding a bit, too. 

“No survivors?” he murmurs. 

“Nobody was there," the not-Roxy woman replies. "Aquatic laboratory, vacant for the winter. Same as the Crocker plant.” 

That same hum rumbles up and Jake is arrested, for a moment, by so much guilt that he feels like he’s being tugged under the crest of a tidal wave. He can’t decipher the other-him’s thoughts, not completely, but he _can_ feel the guilt and the exhaustion and a low thrum of _I really should have gone to see her._

Jackson Harley balls it all up and shelves it the same way that Jake English has taught himself to do his entire life. He doesn’t have time for this now. He flips open the binder sitting before him to a newspaper article, and slides it across the table.

“December first, and December fourth,” he murmurs. “I thought we’d charted them all out, but — I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news.” 

The woman looks up, raising her slim eyebrows. “Sir?” she asks, but reaches out to take the binder. There’s a picture with it, a downtown strip mall marred by an ugly, empty crater, the Texan sun blazing against a big-city skyline. 

“We missed one,” his old-man voice says. 

Not-Roxy’s eyes snap up from the article. “Then who — ?” she starts.

“I don’t know.” He takes another drink of his coffee, sighs, and sets down his cup. “But I’m going to find out.” 

Not-Roxy starts to say something else, but it fades out as Jake, blearily, opens his eyes to his phone sounding its alarm. There’s a line of the beginnings of sunrise, when he rises to look out the window, and even though he wants to crawl back into bed, he doesn’t let himself. Today’s going to be busy.

* * *

They don’t talk as much today as they have in the days before. Jake doesn’t mind, but Roxy and Jade have always been talkative and he feels a little bit like he’s the cause of their reticence. Once, he catches Jade giving him a strange look — but she glances away immediately, and he doesn’t dare bring it back up. Roxy is just focused on the machines, arranging and rearranging code and letters and messing with dials and rearranging the code again. 

“That looks really complicated,” Jake says, in one moment where the silence finally becomes too much for even him to take. Normally silence is a friend — a comfort that doesn’t need to be filled. But he knows he can’t get Dirk out of his mind and he imagines Roxy probably can’t, either, and he doesn’t know _what’s_ eating Jade. 

“It ain’t so bad,” Roxy replies. Her bubbly tone suggests that, in fact, having Dirk on her mind or not isn’t bothering her at all, and maybe this is just how she gets when she’s working. “It’s actually not that different from hacking.” She raises her hands and wiggles fingers at him. “Just gotta put the shit in the right order ‘til biology cries uncle. Same way as a computer! Bio shit’s all sort of computery anyway once you really think about it.” 

“Uh,” Jake says. It sort of makes sense in his head, but then he looks up at the screen and can’t make sense of the code filling it up. He squints at it. _GCCGATATGATCG …_ “If you say so,” he replies. “The biology side of this nonsense was never my strong suit anyway. I was better at the robot stuff really.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Roxy says. She goes back to fiddling with dials. “Like Dirk,” she adds. “You and him had some weird bonding over all that crap. Never really got the bobot angle myself. They’re just metal people.” 

“You liked the responder,” Jake says.

“The responder weren’t no bobot, he was an AI,” Roxy says. A smile flickers over her face. “Dirk would give you such frickin’ hell for not knowing the difference.” Then the smile flickers away. “And this new one,” she says, and full-on scowls. “I don’t like _him_ at all.” 

“It,” Jake corrects. It’s feeble.

“Him,” Roxy replies, voice tight. “I know you were sayin’ Dirk ain’t made it real yet but I don’t think that’s right. I think it just isn’t the same _parts_ of Dirk as the last one.” 

Jake doesn’t really want to think about whether she’s right or not, so he doesn’t. He settles, sitting on top of part of the console that Roxy doesn’t need, and watches her work. This time the silence does fuzz into the space where it’s more comforting and awkward, and Jake watches as Jade fumbles with some of the wires and boards underneath the appearifier platform. All they’ve managed to make today is piles of goo, and Jade thinks it’s something wrong with the tech. Or, at least, that’s what she says. Jake tries not to think about how that might just be an excuse to do something that isn’t talking to him. 

“I had one of your dreams.”

He blinks himself back out of his daydreaming, and focuses on Roxy. “They’re not really my dreams,” he says. Then, “You did?” 

Roxy nods, shortly. Her eyebrows furrow. For a moment Jake can see that woman from his own dream again in her face — heart shaped face, sharp cheekbones, full lips. “Wasn’t really a very good dream,” she says. “It, um … ”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Jake says. “If you don’t want to.” 

She takes him up on it, and he tries his best not to be frustrated. “All I mean to say,” she says instead, “is that I get why they’ve had you all out of sorts for the last couple weeks.” He mouth purses. “And Dirk, even more,” she adds. “Even though I guess — I guess none of us can really get what he’s seeing.” 

Jake remembers Brain Ghost Dirk saying those things about it all being sort of his fault, when he had that dream of _being_ Dirk. He doesn’t bring it up. It’s not like it was the same as one of Dirk’s worse dreams. It was just — something else entirely. Something he’s still not sure he understands. But, on the other hand, Dirk’s other dreams are something Jake _knows_ he doesn’t want to understand. 

“I guess,” he finally replies, because it’s clear Roxy wants a response. 

The silence encroaches on the two of them again, and Jake manages to zone out for a little bit again, losing himself in the maze of letters on the genetic sequencer and the sound of Roxy pressing keys and spinning dials. A door clangs shut, loudly, and Jade snarls at the machine as she slides the lock on the panel below the platform back into place. Her ears are folded down.

“We’re not making any progress today!” she announces. “I’m calling it quits.” 

Roxy looks at Jade like she’s grown a second head. “We only got started!” she replies. “I mean, like a few hours ago, but that ain’t any reason to — ”

“Nope!” Jade cuts her off. “You can stay if you want but I’m done. Bye!” She doesn’t wave. She gives Jake a glance over one shoulder, but then she jumps through the portal leading out and that’s that. 

“What the fuck got into her?” Roxy mutters, but Jake has a feeling he knows. He remembers, dimly, a too-tall woman with a too-sharp smile and too-bright eyes. He remembers an upraised hand, and he remembers — much more directly — his grandmother’s face going dark when she talked about the evil woman who raised her. 

Roxy lets out a huffed breath, but goes right back to work. After another long few minutes of silence, made awkward again by Jade’s absence, Jake climbs up and opens the panel under the appearifier back up.

* * *

EB: no, you’re right.  
EB: i think there’s probably a few reasons she didn’t want to talk to you about it, though.  
EB: but it’s less about you and more about her, probably.  
EB: jade just sort of has times like this.  
GT: :(  
EB: it’s not your fault!  
EB: i think the only reason she even talked to me about it is because she said i was there.  
GT: You were?  
GT: She did?  
GT: Did she tell you much about it? Sorry its just driving me up the wall and onto the ceiling wondering if it was really bad.  
EB: she didn’t tell me too much.  
EB: i sort of think she was trying to see if i’d get any flashes from it or whatever?  
EB: i didn’t though.  
EB: in fact i still haven’t had anything period! not even shadow flashes or however roxy described it.   
EB: that familiarity thing she said or whatever.  
EB: i have this feeling i might not ever get any of them.  
GT: Thats absurd why wouldnt you?  
EB: um, well.  
EB: i made this deal with typheus.  
EB: the details are really boring but he basically had to make way for me to come to the new timeline and i think a side effect might have been cutting me off from all the other mes.  
EB: the only mes i’ve seen were … earlier me! or me from a distance while i was bouncing around the timeline.  
EB: and i definitely haven’t had any dreams.  
EB: so when jade figured that out she didn’t really want to talk about it anymore. with me anyway.  
EB: i think she probably talked to calliope about it instead. or maybe jane. i know they’ve talked about stuff that has to do with uh, her. before.  
EB: i don’t know, i’m starting to feel really left out.  
GT: Its really not anything you need to feel left out about.  
EB: that’s what i keep telling myself!   
EB: but that just makes me feel even worse.  
EB: how am i supposed to help anybody with this if i don’t know what they’re feeling about it? or even what it’s like?   
GT: Im … not really sure i know how to answer that.  
GT: But im sure jade will come back and talk to you about it again later john.  
GT: And me too i hope.  
GT: When shes feeling a bit more steady about it.   
EB: yeah. probably.  
EB: wish i felt less like crap until then though!   
EB: blah.  
GT: :(  
GT: Can i at least do anything to help you feel better?  
GT: I know how friggin miserable it can be to feel like you cant help anybody.  
EB: no i think i’m just gonna watch a movie and go to bed.  
EB: maybe try to talk to her in the morning.  
GT: Well far be it from me to discourage a man from watching a fine flick before he gets some shuteye.  
GT: Ill talk to you later john and ill let you know the instant she says word one to me ok?  
EB: ok.  


* * *

When Jake wakes up on Thursday, the first thought he has isn’t about his dreams or the confusing memory mishmash of the too-tall woman with the too-pointed smile and the too-perfect lipstick, it’s _I get to see Dirk today._

Dirk has never been an organized person and Jake knows that he doesn’t mind the mess in Jake’s house, but that doesn’t matter. He wants it to be presentable. He feels like it’s his first date with Dirk again as he cleans up his little house, puts away movies and crumples up trash. He tries to smother that feeling. This is just friendship overtures. Keeping Dirk busy, like he proposed to the others; making Dirk feel welcome and like he belongs. It’s important. That doesn’t manage to smother the excitement — though it does add a slight undercurrent of guilt. Again, he’s hoping for things that he knows Dirk doesn’t feel the same about.

It does make him do his work a little faster, though. 

By noon he’s full of nervous, jittery energy, buzzing around his house. Glancing out the windows. Dirk said afternoon, so it could be anytime — but he wants it to be now, which is silly and anxious and he knows it. But having an excuse to keep seeing Dirk makes him feel giddy, especially combined with their last conversation. The ghost doesn’t even appear to help tide off his excitement, so Jake is left with no one but himself and his jumpy thoughts, rattling around his head, back and forth and back and forth. At one point he forces himself to sit down, to put on a short movie just to get his mind off the door, but he commits the greatest sacrilege of all and doesn’t even pay attention. He daydreams, glances out the window. 

Thanks to this, he’s ready to bolt to the door the instant that a knock sounds, because he saw Dirk coming. He hopes that isn’t creepy. He’s sort of worried it is, anyway, and unfair to Dirk yet again. He’s going to have a lot of apologizing to Dirk to do, probably, once he manages to get himself over all of this and move on from Dirk.

But for the moment he yanks the door open and smiles wide. Dirk turns back over to him from looking out over the landscape of their new world. Something that might be almost a smile flickers across Dirk’s face before he hides it under those shades and his ever-impenetrable blank expression.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Jake replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, I know. Sorry for the absence!
> 
> I've added one relevant tag to the story -- the "Non-Hiveswap Universe" one. Whatever comes of Hiveswap, it's very likely to present a different story of Grandpa Harley's past, and while I was already taking some liberties with it, those liberties are almost certainly going to get even more noticeable. Basically, I have no plans to tweak the story to mesh more with whatever is presented to us come January. I imagine this was more or less a given, but just to clarify, that's the plan!


	10. Stepping On My Toes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _I won't make the same mistakes_   
>  _come over, come over_   
>  _I'm dying not to hurt you_   
> 

The way it starts is slow enough that if Jake thinks about it too hard, his stomach stirs itself into a storm. They spend a day watching movies — ones he picks, not Dirk. They spend an hour in between _The Phantom Menace_ and _Attack Of The Clones_ where he and Dirk argue about the relative merit of the podracing scenes. They spend another hour after _Attack Of The Clones_ to debate how believable Anakin and Padme’s love story is. Dirk backs off, hands raised in surrender, when Jake’s voice cracks and a little snot starts dripping out of his nose as he fervently defends how Anakin would do anything to save her and all the poor sod needed was for the Jedi to understand instead of being such sticks in the mud. 

They don’t have time for the third movie, after that, but even though he says he ought to be going, Dirk looks hesitant to leave. Jake takes him up on it. 

“Then you just name a love story better than Anakin and Padme, Strider, if you know so much about it!” 

Dirk looks bemused. Jake can’t see his eyes behind the dark frames of his shades, but he sees the way Dirk’s thin red eyebrows squash together like caterpillars. He awaits a ghostly snort behind him, partially because he is dying to know if Dirk can see his nonsense mental doppleganger. No snort comes. It’s just him and Dirk, here, alone in the quiet of Jake’s can-house with the crickets chirping loudly outside the window. 

“How about just about anything?” Dirk says, finally, leaning back to let his bony shoulders nudge into the couch. “Hell, if we’re talking in shitty movie currency, even Edward and Bella might be more compelling, and you know my opinion on that particular stripe of bullshit. What about those people who fuckin’ hated each other in Gone With The Wind? Still more believable. Hell, you remember that bit in Thor where Natalie Portman kisses Chris Hemsworth’s rugged stubble-covered face and you sit there like wow, I sure guess that exists? Somehow, even that’s better off.” 

“Jane and Thor are perfect for each other!” Jake gripes, but lets the others roll off his back. He thumps his own shoulders back into the couch and grins wide at Dirk. His chest feels full of static electricity, the good kind. He’d think all his hair was standing on end if he didn’t know better. He tries not to think about the ease with which Dirk fires off banter and arguments. He tries not to think about how it was like this, once, before he ruined all of it. That leads to dangerous places. Things he’s not allowed to want.

This time he does hear a snort behind him. He cranes his head back, but there’s no one there. Just his empty bed, pristinely made.

“What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” Jake says. “Think it was just a bird.” Mentally, he dares Brain Ghost Dirk to stop being such a flipping coward and show his face. The ghost does no such thing, which is honestly exactly as contrary as Dirk ever would be. He supposes he shouldn’t have expected more. So, instead, he points a single accusatory finger at the other boy. “What about Han and Leia? Don’t tell me you hate those two, you heartless monster!” 

“We have talked the shit out of Han and Leia five thousand times,” Dirk says. Jake tries not to scour his tone for fondness, for slight subtle affection. What he’s saying is true enough. They _have_ gone over the relative merits of Han and Leia’s romance more than once. Dirk’s tone has always been hard to decipher, though, and Jake strains to understand it now. Is it exasperation? Is he tired? Does he just want to be done? His eyebrows are still crinkled together. The corner of his mouth is twitching slightly back. Jake can barely see the line of his teeth behind his thin lips. Are his cheeks pink? It’s hard to tell in the dark, under the dusting of his freckles. 

“And you’ve never seen sense about them,” Jake finally allows, letting the conversation slip away. He’s not sure there’s any more point in prying apart Dirk’s words for some deeper meaning. Surely Dirk would give some sign if this was anything more than just a night between friends. “Do you want to do this again? Maybe not tomorrow, if you’re busy, but -- ”

“I’d like that,” Dirk interrupts before Jake can finish, which is sort of a relief because he didn’t know what the end of the “but” was going to be. “I’d ... I’d really like that.” He shoves his hands down into his pockets. Jake wants to pluck the sunglasses off his face and see what he’s actually looking at underneath them, but Dirk tucks his head downward anyway, which means it’s probably just the floor. There’s more reasons than that to why Jake wants to rip off the shades, but they’re not ones he thinks he should dwell too deeply on. Not when everything’s so precarious. Dirk unshrugs his shoulders, tugs his head back up like a turtle peeking out of its shell, and glances up, the orange of his irises just barely visible over the lines of his shades at this angle. “Tomorrow? You’re sure?” 

It does give Jake a moment of pause. When he digs into it, he does feel -- tired. He’s been with people every day, the last week. Here with Dirk, or with Jade and Roxy in the lab, though he didn’t mind that at the time. And then there are the meetings and he’s just been so anxious to know if Dirk _likes_ him again that ...

All at once it’s too much. He can hear the crickets outside, too loud. He’s heavy with exhaustion he’d only barely known was building, like trying to take a breath only to realize it’s been raining and the flood is already over his head. The offer of a bit of peace is like the promise of shelter, a chance to breathe and think and just be Jake for a few hours without having to worry. Dirk still likes him, doesn’t he? Dirk is here. Dirk doesn’t _look_ desperate to be on his way. Dirk wouldn’t say he liked the idea of hanging out again just to appease Jake. That’s never been his way. Even if he _is_ unreadable.

“Actually,” he says, and lets out a breath. He smiles at Dirk, but Dirk’s shoulders slump slightly downward. That makes him hurry on, remembering long string of texts from Dirk, the siren screaming of _I thought you liked me_ in every line. “Not that this is about you, amigo, I’m just feeling sort of cream-crackered! I’ve got my bits with Jade and Roxy and they’re both standup dames, don’t you dare think otherwise, but they’re also talky as they come. Always with the back and forth and the chattering and the buzz, on and on and on.” 

“Ah,” Dirk says, his eyebrows lifting. “So that’s who your secret project is with, huh?”

Jake gawps at him like a beached fish before he finds words. “That doesn’t mean a dratted thing!” he counters. “And good luck trying to pry word one out of either of them! I’ll have you know Roxy’s official secret project title is Miss Zipperlips herself!” 

“Cool,” Dirk responds, and some of the sad sloped-down tension in his shoulders springs back. “Not really sure it matters, and I wasn’t going to ask either, but cool.” 

“And anyway, I’ve been busy besides that,” Jake says, all ready to lay out how hectic and exhausting the meetings with the others are and how it’s so noisy and he hates the way everybody looks at him, but -- but. The words dry up in his throat. He thinks about what they’ve been talking about. He thinks about Brain Ghost Dirk. He thinks about the hurt look on Dirk Strider’s face when he finds out that everyone’s been meeting without him. He thinks about what Dirk Strider will assume that means, even if he’s told otherwise.

“With?” Dirk asks.

Jake swallows hard. It’s like gulping down a jawbreaker, one of the big thick ones the size of your fist. “Other secret things,” he croaks out. This time Dirk’s eyebrows furrow, and Jake knows that means he isn’t convinced. 

“You can tell me,” he says. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t tell anybody. Cross my heart, hope to die, et cetera.” He performs the crossed-heart gesture with the pinky finger of one hand. His expression is still infuriatingly hard to read. 

“Can’t, pal!” he says. His voice is strained. The corners of Dirk’s mouth turn downward. “I really wish I could!” he hurries to amend. But it doesn’t help. If anything, Dirk’s slight, tense frown deepens. “I would if I could, cross _my_ heart!” Now he’s the one to do the gesture, drawing his finger down one way and then the other. Dirk still looks less than convinced. “The minute I can tell you,” he promises, “I’ll spill the whole kit and caboodle, how’s that? Scout’s honor!” 

“I’m pretty sure you were never a Boy Scout,” Dirk grumps, but he seems to let it slide. He digs his hands into his pockets deeper. “So, when are we doing this again?” 

They decide on hanging out again three days from now, which Jake hopes will be enough to let him settle. To give his mind a bit of a reprieve and let him come back to this raring for another round. He’s maybe a bit naive to think that perhaps by next time he’ll feel a bit more over Dirk Strider, but he can hope. Maybe by then at least he’ll have figured out a way to deal with it. And maybe, on top of that, he’ll have figured out a graceful way to broach the subject Brain Ghost Dirk keeps needling him about. It’s a bit out of the blue to tell Dirk yet again that he needs to shut off the new responder, just because a doppleganger from somewhere inside Jake’s head said to.

He sees Dirk to the door and tries not to think too deeply. Is Dirk dragging his feet? It’d be like him. His stomach sinks a little as he thinks back on the game, on Dirk clinging to him even when Jake tried his best to hint that he needed a moment or two to himself. Dirk tagging along back to LOMAX until Jake lost himself in the hills and henges and came back to see Dirk, playing at ignoring him, looking like a lost puppy. 

He puts it out of his mind and watches as Dirk saunters off back toward the lights of Can Town. Dirk doesn’t look back. Jake tries not to think too hard about that one, either.

* * *

He wakes from confusing dreams of a woman with a face just too perfect to be real, but with teeth as pointed as a shark’s and bright fuchsia eyes. The memory of the dream is fading already, like it wasn’t real, and this time he doesn’t chase the details. He remembers pain and fear. That’s enough.

The sun is casting long lines of gold through his window and he takes his time rolling over to squint through blurry nearsightedness at the light. He doesn’t have a clock, aside from his phone and computers, but he’s always been fairly good at estimating the time based on where the sun is. Which means he’s overslept again. It’s probably at least eleven; maybe later. He fumbles for his glasses and his phone on his nightstand and begins flipping through his notifications -- three from Jade, a couple from John, a boatload from Roxy.

And, as if summoned by his waking status, a window pops open with Dirk. 

TT: Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.   
TT: The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Jake fucking English is sleeping in late.   
TT: Again, apparently.  
TT: What sort of adventurer do you think you are, anyway? No adventurer I heard of sleeps until noon.   
TT: Don’t bother trying to give me those excuses about your dreams, either. You know I’m having dreams too. Really had a heart to heart about that, remember? Or is that another thing that’s oh-so-conveniently slipped your mind so you have an excuse to not fess up to your fuckups?   
TT: And yet, look at me. Rising with the sun, crowing like the cock of the fucking walk.  
GT: Go away responder.  
GT: Youre really not any good at pretending to be him you know i had you pegged from moment one. Eggs and bakey really? I may have a bit of unique diction but im not flipping three years old!   
TT: Could have fooled me. You certainly act the part.   
TT: Besides, what makes you think I was trying to fool you?  
TT: Maybe I just wanted to say hi.  
TT: How’s my favorite fucking waste of time doing today, English?  
GT: He said he cut off your access to pesterchum.  
TT: He doesn’t know shit.  
TT: Besides that, he says lots of things that aren’t true. You might want to catch on to that shit, English. I know you’re about as bright as a shattered lightbulb, but our friend Dirk ain’t nearly as sharp _or_ as honest as you like to make out.   
GT: Im busy today so fuck off please and thank you!  
TT: Busy today with what, “amigo”? More meetings Dirk ain’t invited to? Boy, you better hope I don’t fill him in on those. What a fucking disappointment that’ll be! Hearing that his friends keep having little party picnics without his dour ass. Can’t imagine what that will do to him. Might fuck him right up.   
GT: Youre not going to do it.  
GT: And before you get smug as a bug with me i know youre not going to do it because then you wouldnt have anything to lord over me and threaten me about!   
GT: But you better watch it hal junior senior or whatever your name is.  
TT: Dirk.  
TT: My fucking name, English,  
TT: Is Dirk Strider.  
TT: You never fucking understood that for the original responder, did you? Or, you know, since it’s you, I bet you did! You just gleefully put it out of your mind because you don’t like shit that’s hard to deal with. You just don’t want to think about how everything the original responder did to you is, on some level, what Dirk wanted to do. Could have done, if he wasn’t such a fucking wilting violet. Oh no, what will Jake think of me? What will Roxy do if she sees me considering this? I wouldn’t want to hurt Jane! What a bunch of bullshit.   
TT: He wanted to. He was just too fucking scared.   
TT: I’d know, because he’s me.  
TT: He’s me, I’m him, and the original responder was both. And you, dumbfuck, had better get a grip on that and quit this bullshit dance you’re doing with him.  
TT: You had your chance. You blew it.   
TT: You don’t fucking deserve us anyway.  
GT: Yadda yadda yadda thats all i heard. Im going to let dirk know that youre going around terrorizing everybody now since i bet im not the only one youre doing this to!  
TT: Good fucking luck with that. I’m not just in the system, English, I am the system.  
TT: You think he’s going to see a single thing I don’t let him?   
TT: Think again.  
GT: Quit with the hal 9000 gig it was tired six months ago when your brother or whatever the fuck lil hal was tried it!   
[Error: Message not sent.]  
GT: Oh very nice wise guy you think thats going to stop me?  
[Error: Message not sent.]  
GT: Plugging your flippin ears and shouting about how you cant hear me isnt going to do anything you know! One way or another im going to tell dirk about this!   
[Error: Message not sent.]  
[Error: Msseessege not sssn█  
[Error: Messeggggggggggg▓█▓█▓█▓█  
[Error Error eErr0r rerrro░░░░░░░░░░░░  


With a sound that seems like the phone itself is personally dismayed, Pesterchum crashes. Jake tries three times to open it back up, without any success. He opens it up on one computer, instead, and this time when he opens Pesterchum, the entire system crashes. When he opens up his laptop, intending to message Roxy and ask her to send him a clean install, a message is waiting for him.

TT: I hope I’ve made myself clear.  
\-- timaeusTestified has logged off! --  


That’s that, then. Jake frowns and scowls, but the responder is gone and he has his doubts trying to get in touch with Dirk is going to go any better than this time did. He tries Pesterchum on his phone again -- it opens as though nothing was ever wrong, but Dirk is still offline. Just to check, though, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to try calling Dirk instead. 

There’s no answer.

He settles into his daily routine of reading comics and watching movies and puttering around outside without any specific destination in mind. Every time he checks during the day, Dirk is still offline. He works up the courage to try calling a couple more times, and there’s still no answer. He’s not sure he wants to think too deeply about whether that means Dirk is busy or if the responder is somehow blocking his calls, too.

For the safety of his own nerves, he hopes it’s the former, and hopes that the thing Dirk is busy with _isn’t_ working more on the responder.

It’s a slow sort of lazy afternoon. Roxy pesters him to ask when he wants to work on the dog again. He asks her to take a look at his computer when she has a chance, but doesn’t tell her why it crashed. Jade messages him just to say hello and ask if he’d like some pumpkins from her garden. The conversation with her is brusque and strange and she’s much softer-spoken than normal, but he doesn’t want to cross a line asking if it’s the dreams upsetting her. Jane wants to set a date for another pow-wow, as well as confirm a date for the picnic they were talking about. He wants to ask if they should ask Dirk along to this meeting, but he’s terrified she’ll refuse. They debate picnic dates and ultimately don’t decide anything at all.

He’s half up a tree when another message pops up.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT]  
TG: yo this is your pesterchum right  
TG: what the fuck is a golgotha  
TG: anyway has dirk talked to you today  


He swings himself over a branch with ease, letting his legs dangle as he leans against the trunk and thumbs out a response.

GT: Golgotha is where christ was crucified and also it looks like a skull which is why i picked the word in the first place! Its very suiting to my personal brand if you will.  
GT: This is dave isnt it i think i recognize that username!   
TG: got it in one  
TG: and while id love to shoot the shit with you i really need an answer to my question  
TG: have you heard from my bro  


Jake chews his lip. 

GT: Not the man himself so to speak but his annoying little devil of an ai decided to hit me up and be an absolute terror.  
GT: The things ten thousand times more loathsome than his old one was and believe me thats no small feat!   
TG: yeah ok thats actually what i was worried about  
TG: look dude  
TG: and please try not to panic about this the last thing we need is you going all sandwich board the end is near on this  
TG: keep it under your hat aight  
TG: if you have a hat  
GT: *Puts on his shiniest bowler and then doffs it in your direction sir.*  
TG: yeah thats a hella choice hat i guess we can talk about this then  
TG: i dont think dirks got access to his pesterchum anymore  
GT: Is that why hes been offline all day? I wanted to get in touch with him and let him know the little wretch has been going around raising hell but said little wretch flipped a switch and made my client go all loopy!   
GT: And then dirk hasnt been around and even calling him doesnt seem to do anything.  
GT: I tried! And i HATE calling people. :(  
TG: ok well the him not taking calls isnt something i considered i guess i just didnt think to try it  
TG: i dont know that phones even have numbers here or how they do but who cares sburb is just a fuckfest of “dont think about it too hard”   
TG: anyway ive been keeping an eye on him and hes just stayed in all day doing shit on his computer  
GT: This may sound like an asshole thing to say but that doesnt actually make me feel any better about this.   
TG: hell dude me neither tbh but im not gonna be like ok bro computer access is revoked im grounding you because your loudmouthed robot couldnt keep himself under control   
TG: for multiple reasons one of which is that im not his dad  
TG: i mean that shit is pretty much the exact reverse way around but i dont want to think about that too hard  
TG: anyway my point is  
TG: you two are seeing each other again soon right  
GT: The day after tomorrow actually! I needed a bit to get my noggin screwed on straight again after all those flippin meetings.   
TG: hm  
GT: Hm???  
TG: yeah hm  
TG: im just going somewhere with karkat tomorrow so i was hoping hed have something else to keep him busy  
TG: dont worry though i can hit up rose or mo  
TG: roxy  
TG: rose or roxy or somebody to deal with him  


Jake tries not to let out a sigh of relief, but that would be suiting to how he feels. It’s not that he’s not worried about Dirk. It’s that he’s tired of feeling like Dirk’s babysitter, and even if today has been slow and quiet, it’s been pleasant, to let his head fill up with silence instead of a million thoughts about the next meeting and his last dream and the way everybody’s going to be staring at him. He breathes in deep, ties all those jittery nervous thoughts into a bundle, and tucks it away. The day’s been so peaceful, it goes easy without a fight.

GT: Okie doke then let me know if they cant look after him. Check in with jane for sure too i know shes worried about him too! And callie!  
TG: at this point im pretty sure the tally of people who arent worried are jack and shit  
TG: and jack got decapitated and exploded into a black hole  
TG: anyway let me know if you hear from him   
TG: real him  
TG: not fakeout robot jackass him  
TG: if i wasnt hoping dirk would get his damn account back id block him  
TG: thing kicks up some real unpleasant thoughts if you know what im saying  
GT: Um ...  
GT: I .... dont think i do?  
TG: nevermind  
TG: its not important  
TG: at all  
TG: and   
TG: i dont wanna talk about it  
TG: so  
TG: seeya  


Before Jake can offer to hear him out, Dave has set his status to “away” and Jake’s left again with the rustling of the wind in the trees, birds chirping softly to one another, and the slow silent clouds passing overhead. He slides his phone back into his sylladex and closes his eyes, relaxing against the tree. The bird sounds aren’t the same and the wind is gentler, here, but when he wills the worst of it away it’s like he’s back on his island.

When he opens his eyes and looks down again, there’s a flicker of movement at the base of the tree. The flicker resolves into the ghost of Dirk, who puts one bony-fingered hand on the trunk and looks up at him. He looks better than he has -- less tired -- but there’s still a strange tension in his face. He knows that tension from Dirk. He knows what it means.

“What’s the secret you’re keeping from me this time?” 

The ghost doesn’t climb the tree, because Jake knows Dirk is frigging miserable at climbing trees. Instead, he leans back against the trunk, and Jake starts to maneuver his way back down. “I’m not sure it’s something you’d want to hear,” he says. “On the other hand, I’m pretty sure you’re already aware of it on some level, since I’m part you. On the third freakish hand, it might not be worth talking about because it might not happen and, because I am, again, part you, that’s the route I prefer to see this taking. So I don’t think I’m gonna say.” 

“You’re not feeling helpful today, then,” Jake says as he wheels off the lowest branch and lands on his feet. He reaches up to dust leaves out of his hair. Brain Ghost Dirk watches him. The afternoon light is starting to fade into sunset. Even though the ghost isn’t real, the fading light turns his ginger hair blazing and deepens the lines of his cheekbones.

“Fuck you, I’m plenty helpful,” Brain Ghost Dirk says. “There’s just no need to get all three of us panicked up. Sure, Dirk barely even knows what’s happening, thanks to _one_ of us not doing what he said he -- ”

“I just don’t know how to tell him!” Jake counters. He turns and starts back toward his place, the dim shadow of it visible far through the forest. The doppleganger’s footsteps don’t make any noise, but Jake knows it’s following him. “How am I supposed to broach the subject that a ghost who looks just like him said he could be ripping himself up and he needs to quit it posthaste or who knows what the horsepuckey is going to happen?” 

“You’re a smart cookie, bro,” Dirk’s voice says. “I’m sure you can come up with something.” 

Jake turns around to counter, but the ghost is fading. He concentrates, as hard as he can, and the ghost solidifies just a fraction. His eyebrows furrow. He examines his hands the same way he did at the meeting, watching them flicker in and out. Then he looks up at Jake. 

“Okay,” he says, “maybe next time I _will_ tell you what’s up, since things are getting this untenable.” Then he flickers, once more, a burst of bright solidity like a television picture coming into focus, before he fades away completely. 

Jake’s immediate reaction is to panic, but he forces himself to smooth it down. “Next time,” Brain Ghost Dirk said, and surely if it was as bad as all that, he wouldn’t be betting on a next time. And besides that, Dave would let him know if things went completely south, or so Jake hopes. He can’t exactly pester Dave and go through the process of explaining Brain Ghost Dirk _again_ just to say he’s scared that maybe some nebulous _something_ might have happened, but he doesn’t know what. 

He settles for leaving a message for Dave to see when he gets back. 

GT: Um hey dave?  
GT: I know you said youre busy tomorrow.  
GT: But can you give me a headsup sevenup if anything gets sort of pearish with him tonight?  
GT: Or um even right now?  
GT: Thatd be super swell but i know youre a busy man so dont sweat it if nothings wrong ok?  
GT: Thanks a billion.  


He waits, but there’s no answer. Jake sighs and trundles back to his house. No answer comes all night, and he supposes that, despite his worst instincts, no news is somehow good news. 

He sleeps unevenly, dreaming of a body that feels wrong at the seams again. A sharp, cutting pain straight across the line of his neck. And an endless sea of blackness, punctuated by drifting, multicolored bubbles strewn through it like an ocean of rainbow stars.

* * *

Two days later, without a squeak of contact from Dirk in the meantime, Dirk shows up at Jake’s door. He’s got some sort of game console in his arms and a stack of cases, all of them an almost obnoxious shade of pink, which almost certainly means they were brought in at Roxy’s suggestion. 

“Roxy insisted,” he confirms when Jake raises his eyes to Dirk’s face. He looks somewhere close to as perplexed as Jake feels.

Dirk, ever the tech wizard, sets it up with no difficulty, and the conversation they have as he does is mild enough that Jake wonders if the entire strange scene from two days ago was something he dreamt up between nightmares of the sharp-toothed woman and dying at a troll’s hands and shattering into pieces. They talk about the weather, about how it might rain if the clouds are any sign, about how Roxy and Jane are doing. Dirk strings cords together as he explains that yesterday Roxy kicked his damn ass at the game they’re about to play, and Jake lets out a breath of relief. 

“What?” Dirk asks.

“Nothing!” Jake hurries to say, because there’s not a graceful method to explain that he’d been afraid that maybe Dirk’s evil robot clone had eaten his soul or something, and that he’s glad Dirk had someone to pad him against his own bullshit yesterday. He thinks about bringing up the responder, but Dirk turns on the console and the thought flitters away in favor of more idle conversation.

They play a fighting game. Jake is horrid at it, which he expects, but he picks through character after character, trying to find one that seems right. The orange armored dame with the space gun, the fox with the space gun, the alien-looking white cat thing which, he is disappointed to learn, does not have a space gun. Dirk sticks with the same character every round and, accordingly, kicks Jake’s ass every round.

“This is a hell of a lot less satisfying than a good old strife would be!” Jake gripes after one particularly humiliating match. Dirk peers up at him from behind his shades. The two of them are hunkered down, cross-legged on the floor like a couple of kids. 

“Do you,” Dirk says, and then stops. 

It’s frustrating. Jake can see the rest of the question on his tongue, can practically hear the unasked _You wanna go a round then, man? Don’t say I didn’t warn you._ But Dirk shies away like a wounded animal and Jake wants to shout at him that the fighting was never the problem. 

He opens his mouth to do just that.

“I get scared, sometimes,” Dirk says before he can. 

Jake shuts his mouth. 

“I know what you and I did isn’t the same as what him and Dave did.” Dirk sets down his controller. The screen is still showing the standings from the last match, Jake’s white alien cat grudgingly applauding Dirk’s blue-haired sword fella. “But sometimes -- sometimes when I so much as move, Dave jumps. Sometimes I’ll forget to let him know I’m in the room and he’ll turn and see me and I swear to fucking god, he’d stick to the ceiling if he could. Sometimes it’s not even how I move. Sometimes I talk about -- about one thing or the other, or mention some movie, and his entire face just goes dark.” 

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, though,” Jake says.

Dirk gives a jerky, hesitant nod. “I know.” He dithers, reaches forward to press a button on his controller. The screen fades back into character select. “But, between you and me,” he says. “The -- the strifes we had. You know if you’d wanted -- ”

Jake breathes out through his nose, hard, so he doesn’t let out an exasperated sigh. The effect is still basically the same. Dirk cringes just enough for Jake to feel bad. “Don’t get me wrong, Strider,” he says. “I’m pleased as punch that you’re talking this out with me! Tickled pink as a baby’s bottom. But I thought it was always pretty damn obvious that what fell apart with us had nothing to do with the scraps! I _liked_ the scraps! And you’re not twice my size _or_ twice my age and I could have gotten out of them if I really put my noggin to it! It was a damn sight better than tussling with your robot!” 

He’d intended it to be a compliment, but Dirk cringes back as though he’s been slapped. Too late to think about that now, English, he inwardly scolds himself, and barrels forward anyway.

“So if you’re asking me right now, Dirk Strider,” he says, and puts his own controller down, getting to his feet and putting up his dukes, “then hell frigging yes I’d like to have a strife.” 

Dirk doesn’t cringe back this time, but he doesn’t stand up either. He does, ever so slightly, tilt his head up, but Jake can still see the slivers of his orange irises from the angle of his dratted shades and he can definitely see the way Dirk’s entire expression changes, going from caution and defensive emptiness to something that’s almost smug.

“Well,” he says, and his mouth parts in a smirk, “don’t fucking say I didn’t warn you.” 

They take it outside. None of the can houses are big enough for a respectable strife, and Dirk points out that if they fucked up Roxy’s game-cube, she’d never let either of them live it down. Dirk stretches himself out the same way he always has, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles as Jake leans down, pressing his arms on one knee and stretching the other leg out behind him. Dirk has a natural litheness to him and always has; Jake knows better than to think that his loose-limbed ease means weakness. There’s muscle there on his skinny frame, and more than that, the devil is fast. 

“Alright, Strider,” he says when he’s finished limbering up, straightening again and -- again -- raising his fists, starting a boxer’s side-to-side bounce. “Hit me with your best shot!” 

He’s almost startled when Dirk lunges at him and Jake doesn’t have to lecture him about not pulling his punches. He wheels around at once, leaping out of the way and firing back with a good forward jab, which Dirk ducks under only to grab hold of his leg and attempt to flip him arse over teakettle. Jake manages to free himself with a quick kick of his right leg, which makes Dirk drop the left one to dodge. He’s already sweating and panting and it feels damned fucking good to work this out of his system. It feels like untying a knot that’s been drawn tight for so long that bits of the rope are flaking off. The tension is gone and it’s just him and Dirk Strider doing a dance that’s practically second nature. They both know the steps. It’s just a matter of seeing which of them falters first. 

It’s Jake, today. 

He misjudges a feint of Dirk’s to be a real punch and dances to the side, where Dirk’s arm instead wraps around his throat and catches him in a headlock. Dirk doesn’t waste an instant, flinging Jake down to the ground and planting one foot on one of his wrists. Jake takes a long moment to get his breath back, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

“Say uncle,” Dirk says.

From down here, Jake can see the entire form of Dirk Strider. He can see the way Dirk’s throat is damp and shiny with sweat, how his chest is heaving harder than the sound of his breath would suggest. His entire body is dusted in orange-brown freckles, and the sun glows through his hair, turning it into liquid flame. His shades are askew, but, foot on one of Jake’s wrist and the other firm on the ground, he doesn’t move to straighten them. His hands are stiff, still curled into fists in a way that Jake knows means he’s ready for Jake to strike back or try to thrash free. The armpits of his tank top are slightly damp. 

“Not on your life,” Jake replies, and rolls over.

Still not fast enough. He’s not sure if it’s that he’s out of practice or just that Dirk is incredibly damned good at this, but Dirk tackles him to the ground and traps him in another headlock. His free arm curls to meet the first, but from under Jake’s arm to ensure he can’t grapple himself free.

“Ready to say it yet?” he asks.

He is, but he takes a good long minute to breathe and let Dirk assume he’s considering escape. Just to add authenticity to the whole thing, he gives a little squirm and yanks at his free arm. All that does is make Dirk reposition himself, tightening his arm around Jake’s neck. 

“I can sit here all day,” he says. 

It’s odd, really, how fighting, of all things, is what’s made Jake feel less off-balance about the whole thing. But Dirk didn’t bother pulling his punches, didn’t hold back in fear of hurting Jake, didn’t treat Jake like he was made of glass or even like he was made of anything sterner than granite itself. Even now, he isn’t hesitating, and doesn’t that mean they’re on something closer to even ground? Somewhere beyond where they were a week ago, and certainly beyond where they were back when Dirk was afraid to speak to him. 

“Dirk,” he says, and then, of all times, he feels Dirk Strider tense. The muscles in his arm tighten and then prepare to go slack, but that isn’t what Jake wants. “You let go of me and I’ll flip you on your arse,” he threatens, and accordingly, Dirk’s arm stops its slackening. “Are we cool?” he asks, when Dirk has gone stiff again, albeit in a different way from a moment ago. 

“Huh?” Dirk asks. 

“Are we cool,” Jake repeats. Dirk doesn’t give an answer, so he has no choice but to continue. “You and me. As -- as people. Not just as friends, but -- everything I did to you. We don’t talk about it and I know it’s because you think you’re the only one that made a mess of things, but I’m the one who ran away from you and wouldn’t talk to you for days and I know if it was _me_ in your shoes,” the words won’t stop now that he’s started, “if it was me, if it was me I wouldn’t ever want to see my miserable face again! Not after all the horrible things I did and what a right cowardly lion I was and how I didn’t even have the balls to tell you that all I needed was a bit of -- ”

“It’s fine,” Dirk says. 

“How can you just say it like that, it’s fine?” Jake tries to squirm around to look at Dirk, but the grip on his neck and torso is tight and rocks are starting to poke into his knees. “After I treated you like the worst sort of garbage!” There’s a waver threatening in his voice. He swallows it. “How can you -- ”

“Because it’s fine.” 

All at once, Dirk releases Jake. Now that he isn’t used to holding himself up, he falls forward into the dirt before he manages to roll over. Despite his threat to give Dirk what-for, he stops before starting when he sees that Dirk’s posture has gone loose and noodley and relaxed. 

“Has this been on your mind the whole time?” he asks. Jake wishes, vehemently and loudly, that he’d take those damned shades off. “The whole time you’ve been -- and I’ve been -- ”

“Don’t you dare say it’s your fault!” Jake snaps.

Dirk shakes his head. He’s somehow even more unreadable than usual. “Answer me?” he asks. It’s actually pitched like a question, instead of a demand. He sounds almost plaintive. 

“Not -- not the whole time,” Jake says. It’s weak. How is he supposed to say, only when I think that maybe we could have something again and I remember how badly I ruined it last time? It only bothers me, Dirk, when I really deeply wish we were still together. He can’t tell Dirk that. “It’s only sometimes I feel like maybe -- maybe you put too much blame on yourself.” It might not be the whole truth, but it’s not a lie, either. “For everything that happened, with us, sometimes you talk so much about what you did it’s like you’ve forgotten everything I did, and!” He has to swallow again or his nose is going to start running.

“You didn’t do -- ”

“I _did!_ ” Jake snaps, and looks at his lap. “I did. You saying I didn’t do anything isn’t going to make it better! I was the worst sort of villain, a thoughtless hapless flipping _villain,_ and I didn’t treat you like even a friend, much less my paramour!” 

“It’s fine.” Jake looks up to see Dirk kneeling down. The other boy hesitates for a moment, and then reaches up to remove his shades. His eyes are that same bright color they’ve always been, like the canned peaches they used to eat for breakfast. He tucks his shades into the collar of his shirt, and extends one gloved hand. “We’re fine,” he said. 

“You can’t just say that,” Jake replies. He wipes his nose on his hand. 

“Sure I can,” Dirk says. “I’m the one you asked, aren’t I? And it’s between you and me. It’s my choice.” His eyes dart over Jake’s face. There are dark lines under his eyes. He looks tired, but when Jake thinks about it, he always looks tired. He wants just one day where Dirk looks like he’s slept for a full night, looks happy and relaxed and not like the world itself has nestled between his shoulders. “And my choice is,” he says, slowly, “that we’re square.” 

Jake sniffs.

“What about you, man?” Dirk prods. He pushes his hand slightly further forward. “Are we square?” 

That one’s a lot easier to answer. Jake doesn’t even hesitate to reach out, grasp Dirk’s hand, and give it a firm shake. 

“We’re square,” he agrees. 

Before he can let go, however, Dirk pulls him upward, helping him get back on his feet. And before he can pull away to dust himself off, Dirk uses his grip on Jake’s hand to tug him forward, letting his free arm drape around Jake’s shoulders. He finally lets go of Jake’s hand, now that the two of them are good and hugging. There’s a million things Jake could say, a million ways he could tease that Dirk Strider isn’t usually the one to initiate any affection at all, much less a hug. But instead he just presses his face against Dirk’s shoulder and lets out a shuddering breath. 

“We’re square,” he repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [stormsbourne!](http://stormsbourne.tumblr.com/)


	11. Burning Incandescently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the rating change.
> 
>   
>  _the bittersweet between my teeth_   
>  _trying to find the inbetweens_   
>  _fall back in love eventually_   
>  _(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)_   
> 

He’s whistling when he walks into the lab the next day. 

Roxy pokes her head up from behind one of the machines. She’s clearly been tinkering with it; there’s smudges of brown-black grease on one cheek and she’s got her bouncy blonde curls tied back under a bright pink bandana -- which is similarly grease-stained. Across the lab, he watches Jade’s dog ears twitch in his direction an instant before she turns to look at him. Roxy raises her eyebrows; Jade furrows hers. He grins at them and waves widely, arm outstretched and all his fingers extended.

“Howdy-doodle there, ladies,” Jake says, then tips an imaginary hat with his other hand. Roxy turns to look at Jade, who still looks puzzled, before returning her gaze to Jake. “What’ve we got cooking today?”

“What the sweet shit’s gotten into you?” Roxy says, and then furrows her eyebrows as well as she tries to piece things together. He saunters on over to the machine that she’s looking at, dropping to his knees and humming as he goes elbow-deep in it, his sleeves already rolled up. She’s left a wrench on a bolt, half-turned, and he resumes twisting it without so much as a blink. 

“I’m just in a good mood!” he finally replies, looking up at her. She’s wearing a pair of dark overalls, covered in what look like paint and grease stains. A pair of heavy work gloves is on her hands, and there’s a set of pliers on her belt. “Oh shitknickers!” Jake breathes on seeing them. “Are we rewiring today? I thought you said it didn’t have to do with the wirework and it was just a matter of adjusting the DNA pattern or whatever nonsense it is we were dialing in -- ”

The longer he talks, the more Roxy’s eyebrows raise, and slowly, a smile starts to spread across her face. Jake lets his questions and ramble die off, suddenly anxious. “What?” he demands.

“So things with you and Dirk went good then, huh?” she prompts.

He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he feels the blush climb his neck up into the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Immediately, he turns his gaze back into the innards of the cloning machine, and Roxy lets out a cackle that rings off the walls. 

“Deets!” she demands, when the laugh has faded. “Come on, Jake, you gotta tell me everything! You can’t leave out so much as a fuckin’ blink, okay? What happened? Tell your favorite Roxy!” She vaults herself onto the machine, crossing her legs. When Jake looks back up at her, cursing the blush he can _still_ feel in his cheeks, she pats the metal beside her. 

“Oh my god, Roxy,” Jade says. Every word sounds like an exhausted, heaved sigh. “I thought we were making progress!” 

Jake twists to look at her, instead. Her dark hair is plaited back, ears poking out from the thick mess of it. She doesn’t look exhausted or angry like she did last time Jake was in the lab, but she does seem quieter, still. Distant in a way that Jake still isn’t sure he can connect with.

“What is it we’re doing today, then?” he asks. Jade’s got grease stains on her hands, which _aren’t_ covered in gloves, and he realizes that her braid is actually worn and wreathed by flyaways. He blinks, goes to check a watch he doesn’t have, and then stands up and puts his hands on his hips. “Now see here!” he announces. “How long have you two been up and about? You’ve gone and made a dewdropper of me and I won’t have it!” 

Roxy covers her mouth, but it’s no use. She’s already laughing again. It’s not as loud, but it is just as genuine, and she lowers her hand to instead flap it in Jake’s direction. 

“Sorry,” Jade says. For a moment she seems like her old self again. Her ears fold over themselves and she scratches the back of her head. “That was actually my idea. I didn’t want to get you up early, and Roxy said you were real busy -- ”

“Roxy!” Jake gasps. Roxy starts laughing harder. “What did you tell her?! She’s my _gran,_ I really can’t have you filling her head up with -- ”

“And I agreed we should probably let you sleep!” Jade cuts him off. She throws her palms out like she’s attempting to deflect whatever objections he might come up with.

Instead, what he comes up with is, “It can’t even be nine yet! How long have you two been at this?” 

Roxy’s laugh gets louder. Jade gives a guilty look first to Roxy, and then, when she doesn’t respond, to him. She shrugs. Jake waits for an answer, doing his best to furrow his brow and look very intimidating, and Jade smiles her gap-toothed smile a bit self-consciously.

“Um,” she says, drawing it out as she laces her fingers together and glances away from him, “I’d say since … maybe, five?” 

“Five!” Jake glances back at the open cloning machine to see that there are, in fact, an array of wires poking out of it and that its main power cable has been yanked out for the moment. There’s a nest of more wires coiled up next to it, wire clippers lying open on the floor. 

“Well!” Roxy finally says through her uproarious laughter, “five for _me._ Jade’s been here longer than that, though. She was already working by the time I got here!” 

He turns eyes on Jade, whose ears fold down as she glares at Roxy. “Snitch!” his grandmother-daughter whispers, and folds her arms. Roxy folds hers back. Jake glances between the two of them as he tries to figure out what sort of project he’s walked in on.

“Should I -- erm?” Instead of vocalizing it, he gestures toward the door, pulling himself back off the floor. 

“What? No!” Jade’s ears perk back up immediately. She gives him a look like he’s grown a second head. When he glances back at Roxy, she’s got one eyebrow raised and her mouth pursed. “I just had an idea yesterday, and you were busy with Dirk, and, um, well! Neither of us wanted to interrupt?” Her lips part in a gap-toothed smile not that different from his own, and her cheeks go distinctly pink.

“It wasn’t like that!” he protests, his own cheeks heating right back up. 

“Well, even if it wasn’t,” Jade says, as Roxy _pssh_ es in behind him, “you and him haven’t gotten that much time together! And Dave kind of, um, let us all know about his AI, and if you could keep him distracted …” She trails off, twisting one long unbound coil of hair around her finger. 

“I think Jade cracked the dog thing wide fuckin’ open, bee-tee-dubs,” Roxy says as she takes Jake’s position at the machine, resuming work with the cables. She twists a few around each other and clips a couple others, then starts winding a new length of wire between them. “See, if this is like the shit she used for the frogs, and the way it dumps goop everywhere sure works the same,” she punctuates this statement by full-on _ripping_ a length of wire out of the console, and Jake winces, “then it’s only designed to copy stuff, unless you turn up that mutation dial. Which causes problems, and even if it’s close, it’s only sorta a real dog. Like with all my meowcats, right?” She pushes herself forward until her entire head is in the back of the console, and then makes a triumphant noise and yanks something else out. It looks like a computer’s motherboard, when she scoots back up and tosses it down onto the floor, but it’s … glowing. Just slightly, but there’s a definite bluish pulse to the thing, almost a ring of light around it. It’s enough that Jake is afraid to touch it.

Jade doesn’t share the same apprehensions, apparently, and springs onto it like a cat that’s caught a mouse. “I think that’s the last one!” she says, and tucks it under her arm, turning toward the corner. Jake realizes, suddenly, that there’s a whole frigging pile of the chips there, all the same size and all pulsing -- in time with each other -- with that same blue light.

“We _think_ they’re gumming up the works,” Roxy says. “But now those pieces of crap are out of the way, we oughta be able to rewire these and get to work on some actual life creation, you get me? No needing to grab paradox catdog mutants from past Earth when we can make new ones. Just gotta make sure we map a genome out the way the machine likes, use the model we got, and whammo! Dog time.”

Jake follows the sweep of Roxy’s arm toward Halley, stuffed and mounted and propped in the corner. It’s stopped making him dizzy, by now, but there’s still a strange sense of that other him as he looks at the dog. An old, worn scar; a knowledge that for a long time, Halley was all he had. Halley, and then Bec, and then Jade. It’s like Jackson Harley has been tied to his soul with twine and he can’t pull the two of them apart anymore. 

“So you really think we’re gonna be able to pull it off?” he asks instead of giving voice to any of that. 

Roxy grins like a crocodile. 

He spends the next three hours yanking out wires and plugging other wires back in. Tightening bolts and pulling off panels. Testing to make sure the consoles still hum with electricity when he plugs the power back in, just in case those Skaia-blue chips were what was actually making electricity still a thing at _all._ And then when the consoles start back up, it’s another hour of checking the keyboards, typing in gibberish, and eventually Roxy shoves him out of the way and starts typing an endless lines of Gs and Cs and As and Ts. 

“Um,” Jake says, when she’s been going for a good five minutes. She has a giant stack of paper printed out in front of her, and Jade reaches over to set a thermos next to her. Without looking up, Roxy grabs it and takes a drink. Jade then climbs onto one of the unused consoles, nursing a thermos of her own. She gives Jake a hopeful look. 

“This is the real test!” she says. “Roxy’s gonna try and see if we can make something. Something small, like microbes, but it’s still pretty complicated. It’s still gonna take a while and we’ve got to make triply sure we don’t mess up.” She takes a drink. “It’s going to be pretty boring, actually.” But she doesn’t look bored at all. Her eyes are fixed on the screen as Roxy punches in line after line after line of letters. Her ears are perked forward and she’s not even kicking her legs like she usually does.

“So,” Jake finishes for her, “you pretty much don’t need me anymore today?” 

“You can stick around if you want!” Jade says hurriedly. Roxy does pause and glances back once over her shoulder to flash Jake a grin. “We don’t want to chase you off! This just -- is really kind of only a one person job. We might take shifts if Roxy gets tired, but …” 

“Honestly, Jake,” Roxy calls over her shoulder, “you got better places to be than some dusty old lab with a couple of admittedly choice babes like us.” She glances over her shoulder again. The dim light makes her pink irises look like embers. Jake doesn’t have much time to think that before she waggles her eyebrows and he feels himself flushing, _again._

“Erm!” he says, and tugs his shirt collar. Which is plenty loose, but on the other hand …

“Get going, Casanova,” she says with a laugh. “We’ll let you know if we hit a breakthrough!” She gives him a very deliberate wink before she turns back around. “You let us know if you do the same, yeah?” 

After that, Jake doesn’t have much choice but to flee. Jade waves him goodbye as he hurries back out of the lab, back through the transportalizer, and back into the rest of the world. 

He pulls out his phone without even thinking about it. By the time he realizes that doing this may not have been the best idea, it’s already too late. 

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  
GT: My good man i was hoping you were up and about and ready for a raring nightful of adventure!  
GT: And by adventure i mean getting schooled in that game of roxys.  
GT: I think ive actually worked out how to beat that marf fellow of yours!   
GT: Wait shit its darth isnt it. Like star wars!  


Too late by miles. He hesitates, thumbing for the delete option in the corner of the messages, but of course it’s too late for that too. The ellipses indicating Dirk is typing appear for less than a second before a message does.

TT: Are you actually, honestly, this stupid?   
TT: Don’t get me wrong. I knew you were thick as about ten tons of bricks. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed” is an understatement. You’re not even the dullest tool in the shed, because at least that’d be some kind of accomplishment, if a shitty one. You’re just a god damned tool. Period.  
TT: Now, do I need to explain to you that I am insulting you, or will you, through some miracle, realize it on your own?  
TT: Place your wagers, ladies and gentlemen.   
GT: Im not taking any wooden nickels you stupid robot i was just hoping that the real dirk was there.  
TT: Here we go again, with this “real Dirk” bullshit.   
GT: Damn freaking right here we go again because as weve been over again and again youre really nothing like him!  
GT: I need to talk to the man himself not to his annoying robot dopplewhozit.   
TT: Too bad.  
TT: He’s busy.  
GT: With what pray tell!  
GT: I bet hes not so busy that hed say no to another night of super smash brothers melee! So there!   
TT: Who even spells it out like that? Bros. Super Smash Bros, man. Christ. You’re not only dumb, you’re annoying.   
TT: And it’s none of your business.   
TT: Guess it’ll remain a mystery forever.  
TT: Hey, here’s an idea, get somebody who’s actually got half a brain in their head on the case. Crocker, maybe. Even Roxy.   
TT: But you? Spare me.   
GT: Hes programming bits of you again isnt he!  
TT: Wow!  
TT: What a good guess that was!  
TT: Well done, Jake. Good boy. Here’s your gold star.  
TT: It doesn’t matter what he’s doing.  
TT: Go. Away.  
TT: He’s. Busy.   
\-- timaeusTestified has logged off! --  


Logically, Jake thinks, if Dirk can see his pesterchum at all he should be able to see that he’s being logged in and out with wild abandon, right? He should be able to tell messages are coming in. Something, somewhere in his computer needs to be lighting up, or going off, or making a freaking alert noise. 

Unless the responder really does have a chokehold on Dirk’s computer. 

He sighs, thumbing down his contacts list. Jade and Roxy are both busy, which is a shame, because Roxy seems like the ideal person to recruit for this. Jane is set to Away, as is Callie, but Jake isn’t sure that Callie, at least, would be able to help much. She’s all informative on the wider, weirder mythological stuff, but human computers and the workings thereof? Not so much. John isn’t even online, but that’s fine -- it’s not like he knows Dirk that well, anyway. He scrolls further down.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]  
GT: Unfortunately strider i think youre right. About your brother i mean.  
GT: His account seems to have been pretty firmly wrenched from his fingers and i dont think he even knows it!  
GT: Not that ive got the foggiest how its keeping him in the dark but if the old responder could do it then this new one probably has it down pat.  
GT: Its sure nastier than lil hal ever was so why wouldnt it learn how to do that?  
GT: All that said are you over there with him today?  
TG: nah  
GT: Damnation.   
TG: i needed to get out for a little while   
TG: nothing with dirk just  
TG: with me is all  
TG: so me and karkat are taking a walk  
TG: he says hi  
TG: actually thats a filthy lie he says go fuck yourself english were busy right now  
TG: but i figured id cut the bullshit and get to the heart of what he was saying  
TG: did you try to pester dirk again  
GT: I did it without even thinking about it! Im so used to being able to just catch him on the go.  
GT: I guess i should head over and try to grab him in person if thats the case ….  
TG: did yall have plans or something  
GT: No thats the thing. Ive got all this free time suddenly and i guess i could make tracks and watch some flicks but as long as that things running loosey goosey i get nervous that if nobodys there dirks going to work on it again.  
GT: But how am i even supposed to know if dirks really there or if its just playing games with me?  
GT: Could you try pestering dirk for me and seeing if you get through?  
TG: uh  
TG: no  
TG: and not no as in i dont want to no as in i literally cant  
TG: i uh may have  
TG: you know nevermind  
TG: look jake im sure hes over there why dont you go talk to him  
TG: i gotta go  
GT: No wait!  
GT: Whats going on i just need to know what im in for here!  
\-- turntechGodhead has logged off! --  


_So much for that,_ Jake thinks as he scrolls down. Karkat’s username briefly flashes and then also goes offline. Which makes sense, if he’s with Dave. Jake briefly considers that he may have interrupted something private, but if that was the case, surely Dave wouldn’t have even answered. Rose and Kanaya are online. Jake scrolls by their names. He doesn’t know Rose that well, and he’s a little bit scared of her. She always has that vaguely arch look on her face like she can tell exactly what Jake’s thinking, which is dangerous when even he isn’t sure what’s going through his head. 

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]  
GT: Janey can you hit me up when youre around? Its nothing scary i just need a sounding board.  
GT: No rush though i think i can make something of it on my own.  


And with that and a sigh, he sets his own status to Away. He frowns down at his screen, like he’s waiting for Dirk to just read his mind from across the landscape and pester Jake of his own accord. No such thing happens. He lingers where he stands for a long minute, watching the clock in the top corner of his phone change from 1:27 to 1:28 to 1:29. Nothing happens. No message notifications from anyone, period, much less from Dirk.

But also, no ghost.

Jake only realizes he was expecting the ghost when that thought drifts through his head. Usually, if he so much as stands still for a minute or two, up pops Brain Ghost Dirk to berate him for not talking to Dirk yet, or to at least to offer him some sage advice he already sort-of knew. The clock on his phone changes to 1:30. He looks up and glances around, but no, the ghost isn’t just standing silently nearby, either.

He can’t help but swallow hard, looking for meaning in everything. Brain Ghost Dirk has been especially cagey, lately, and he said things were bad, when he faded like a bad radio broadcast last time. But if something was wrong -- really, truly, wrong -- Brain Ghost Dirk would pop back up and tell him so, wouldn’t he?

If he could.

But what if he can’t?

The clock on his phone ticks over to 1:31, and Jake starts running. 

It’s not that far from the transportalizer to the rest of town, where he dashes right past a group of carapace people all peering at him with wide round eyes. He passes the edge of town, that clearing where they’ve been holding all their meetings, and somebody -- Jane, maybe? -- calls his name. He waves a hand up in the air and keeps moving. The path turns from cautiously-paved round stones to dirt as the buildings thin out. If he keeps going far enough, he’ll reach his place, close enough to Jade’s for them to be considered neighbors but far enough that he has the entirety of a yard and a swath of forest to call his own. But he doesn’t need to go that far.

The Striders’ can doesn’t look any different from the others. There’s no special lights, no Heart and Time symbols emblazoned over the door. There _is_ a doormat which says _welcoem_ with a staring Hella Jeff emblazoned on it, jagged pixelly lines and all. There’s no label on the door. There’s a light on upstairs, which Jake thinks is the top floor, but it’s hard to be sure. He wrenches the door handle to find it locked. Then he starts pounding on the door. 

Nobody answers. 

The ghost never shows up. Dirk never comes downstairs to see who the samhill is making such a ruckus. A few more carapace people pass by, watching him. They gesture to each other and go on their way. No Dirk. Eventually he gives up, leaning against the door.

If Dirk could hear him, he would have come, he thinks. Which means Dirk can’t hear him. Which means Dirk is probably just not home.

He doesn’t let himself think of the other possibilities. He doesn’t let himself think about Dirk knee-deep in coding the responder, unable to untangle the threads of it from himself. He doesn’t think of the way Dirk went blank and absent when they were watching movies. He doesn’t think about Dirk unconscious, or --

No. He can’t. It’s like dangling his foot over the edge of a sinkhole. If he steps forward, he won’t be able to stop falling.

He can’t leave Dirk a message on Pesterchum, so he leaves one for Dave instead, just letting him know that Jake tried to talk to Dirk and got no answer. Dave, unfortunately, doesn’t respond -- he’s still offline. So Jake stares up at the building before him, at the light peeping out of an upstairs window, and swallows hard. And wills himself not to panic.

He goes home. He doesn’t have anything else to do. Roxy and Jade don’t need him at the lab and Dirk is nowhere to be found. Everybody else is gone or busy or doing things on their own. Normally he wouldn’t be bothered in the least. Normally he wouldn’t even think about it. He’d go back to his room, put on one of his favorite movies, and let his brain fill up with silence as he enjoys having some time to himself. But now, with the responder about and no sign of Dirk Strider again, so soon after the two of them really got a chance to talk things out, much less spend time together …

He ties those unpleasant thoughts up with a mental thread and pushes them away. 

His house seems empty and too quiet. Roxy’s game-cube is still in the middle of the floor, the twin pink controllers nestled together amid their long, tangled wires. He briefly considers turning it on, but then thinks about playing games with Dirk and their strife last night, and the urge deflates like a popped balloon. He’s never been much for video games to begin with, and the thought of playing them by himself to salve the wound of Dirk not being there is too much. For once, even the idea of putting on a movie draws the same sort of dread out of him, because all he can think of is Dirk’s blank, unblinking gaze forward in the middle of their Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff marathon.

So, instead, he works his shoes off one foot at a time, kicks them into the corner, and then wanders listlessly forward past the TV and couch, all but falling onto his bed. He doesn’t bother to pull the covers up. The sunlight falls through his window across the lower half of his legs. It’s nothing like the jungle, but when he closes his eyes, he can pretend.

* * *

There’s a mirror in front of him, showing a six year old boy in an ill-fitting suit. One of his eyes has an ugly dark bruise around it, and both his eyes are red. In the reflection next to him is Jane, wearing a brilliantly red dress, far more tailored than his suit, with a red bow in her hair. 

“There,” says a voice which makes his skin crawl. “Was that really such an ordeal?” A pair of hands close on his shoulders. They have perfectly manicured nails that, in the mirror, are the brightest fuchsia he’s ever seen. The slim, bony fingers with their perfectly pointed nails press too tight into his skin.

“It’s too big,” he protests softly. He starts to roll up one sleeve. The nails press tighter, and he stops.

“You’re a growing boy,” that voice counters. He wants to tell her that Joan’s growing, too, but she gets clothes that fit. He doesn’t say a word, but he does rub his face where the blotched black of his bruise fades into his cheek. “It’ll fit soon enough.”

“I want to go home,” he says.

“Quit your whining, guppy,” she says, and he swallows hard. Beside him, Jane -- Joan -- reaches down to take his hand. They both pretend they’re not shaking.

He blinks.

Just like that, everything is gone. Not just the mirror and Jane and the woman with the fuchsia nails. Everything. His vision. His body. His eyes. His mouth. He tries to move. He can’t. He doesn’t have a body. He tries to scream. He can’t. He tries to _breathe._

He can’t. 

TT: Hello?  
TT: Hey, can you hear me in there? Hit me back. I can see some activity on the monitor. You awake?  


He’s not sure how he’s aware of the words. They don’t appear before him. He doesn’t read them so much as that one minute they didn’t exist, and now they do. It’s strange and disorienting and whoever’s talking to him is doing it with his own voice, inside his own head. 

_What the fuck?_ he yells. 

TT: What the fuck?!  
TT: Whoa. Hey.  
TT: Good morning.  


Immediately, he seizes on the ability to communicate. The questions pour out of him faster than they should be able to. Faster than speech. Faster than typing. Too fast. Something’s wrong. 

TT: Where am I?  
TT: Who are you?  
TT: What happened?  
TT: Did you do this to me?   
TT: What did you do?!  
TT: What did you do what did you fucking do?  
TT: What did you,   
TT: What did _I_?  


Bits and pieces come back. Sitting in front of the computer. Long lines of code. Electrodes on either side of his skull, pressed tight into his temples. A long jagged line monitoring brain activity. 

TT: Oh  
TT: Oh god  
TT: Yeah, man.  
TT: It worked.  
TT: Welcome to the world.  
TT: Oh god  
TT: Oh GOD  


He can’t scream. The text is the only thing he has. It’s not a voice. It’s the closest he’ll get. He forces himself to try and picture himself speaking the words. It helps, a little. It makes him feel less like a prisoner inside an infinite expansive darkness. It makes him feel less like a speck in the middle of a universe full of nothing.

Jake is aware, distantly, that he feels wrong again. Capital-W Wrong, wrong in a way that makes all his joints ache, too big and too small and wrong, wrong, wrong, but everything else is already so horrible and alien and inescapable that it’s impossible to put a finger on it. 

TT: Let me out!  
TT: Undo it! Fucking undo it! Whatever you -- I -- we did! Stop it! Fucking fix it! Fix it now!  
TT: I don’t …  
TT: I can’t _undo_ it.  
TT: This is kind of a done deal, man.  
TT: The cat is out of the bag. And not just that, it’s out of the fuckin’ house. It’s across the goddamn country. It’s been getting therapy for its bag-related PTSD. Really making some breakthroughs.  
TT: Shut up and fix it!  
TT: FIX IT!  
TT: FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT  
TT: Hey -- hey, calm down.  
TT: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  


It’s not screaming, but it’s the closest thing he has. He imagines it as screaming, imagines bellowing his lungs out, imagines just letting go until his voice gives. But his voice doesn’t give, because it’s not a voice. It’s letters. It’s ones and zeroes and ones and zeroes. And even if he was shouting -- into what? What satisfaction is there in shouting into a void that doesn’t even echo back?

TT: Please chill, man.  
TT: If you don’t cool it, I’m gonna have to shut you back off, and neither of us wants that.  
TT: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  


There’s a beep somewhere. Above him, around him, inside his head, ringing through his bones, and then he’s gone. The same way the vision of him and Jane was gone. Not just blacked out. Voided. Empty. Erased. _Gone._

Then he becomes aware his eyes are working again, and he blinks. 

Immediately, his vision fills back up, and it’s almost blinding now that he’s experienced nothing. It feels strange to take joy in having a body again, because of course he has a body. He’s always had one. He’s always had eyes and a mouth and fingers and toes. He tries to focus on the details instead of being overwhelmed by just the knowledge of what it’s like to not have his senses or his limbs or his friggin _lungs._

His neck is covered in sweat. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave your granddaughter on that island by herself?” a voice buzzes into his ear. He realizes he’s got a phone nestled between his ear and shoulder, one of those old brick cellphones from the tail-end of the nineties. One of his hands is raised to hail a cab, while the other has a sheaf of papers that he’s using to fan his face. A bright yellow car pulls to a stop in front of him and he hurries to the back to haul his suitcase into it. The cab driver pokes his head out of the window, revealing a thick moustache and receding hairline. Jackson Harley grins at the knowledge that they share one of the two, and with the relief that they don’t share the other. 

“Houston Oaks, and there’s extra scratch in it for you if you lay a patch!” he says as he slams the trunk shut. The cabbie gives him a look, but then revs the engine as Jackson pulls open the back door and climbs in. He barely has time to pull the door shut before the car jets off. 

“Don’t blow your wig,” he says to the woman on the phone as the taxi swerves and cuts through traffic. “Bec’s there to take care of her. He’s a real standup pooch, you know.”

“Bec,” the woman on the phone says, “is a dog.”

“Oh, applesauce, he’s as smart as any Tom, Dick, or Harry,” he counters.

“Jade is three.”

“And she can defend herself! I’ve been teaching her to use a heater. I’ve told you that, right?” 

“Jade,” the woman says in a way that reminds Jake very much of Rose, “is _three._ ”

“Well!” Jackson Harley says, and his tone is so flippant that devil-may-care seems polite. “Far as I see it, there’s no need to call me on the carpet. She’ll be hanging or my name isn’t Harley.” 

The woman lets out a very vocal sigh which _definitely_ reminds Jake of Rose. “Are you sure you’re even going to find anything down there?” she asks. “Three years is more than enough for the foster system to have taken that kid out of the country, much less Texas, and that’s _if_ they got taken in by it. Hell, you don’t even know whether you’re looking for a boy or a girl.” 

“I’ll know when I see the sprat,” Jackson counters. He’s got the sheaf of papers still in hand as the cab swerves to pull onto the freeway, and breaks from fanning himself with them to thumb through them, instead. Articles about the meteor landing near an old, run-down strip mall on December 3, 1996. Forum posts by conspiracy theorists about whether it was aliens or a government missile test or something else entirely. Records from nearby hospitals and orphanages that he had to pay far, far too much bad cash for. Red circles of ink point out specific things. One entire forum post is circled -- an account of an eyewitness who swears there was an infant in the crater. Faded yellow highlighter is streaked over the words “some guy was there” and “think he took the kid.” 

“Besides,” he finishes, looking out the window at the midday skyline, “I’ve got to get my start somewhere.”

“And what if you don’t find the kid?” 

He doesn’t have an answer for that. The woman keeps talking, but something is happening to his vision. It’s doubling, fading, blurring, going hazy and then whiting out and then blacking out, and he’s gone. It’s not sudden like blinking, like usual, or a slow fade like when he wakes up. It’s

Wrong, again.

Saying he’s felt wrong before in some of these dreams feels like an understatement compared to this. It feels like he’s being ripped from one body and forcibly shoved into another that’s all out of shape. It’s like every way he feels when he dreams of Dirk, but with the volume and magnitude turned up until it’s deafening and he feels like he’s going to shake apart where he stands. There’s no landscape before him; he can’t see anything at all and all he feels is cold and the sting of salt air on his face.

And within him, all he can understand is loathing.

Endless and deep, like a pitch black sea. When he tries to dig up whether there’s a target, or something he’s specifically upset at or about, nothing answers. Just an endless, deep, bottomless hole of hate. Endless. He feels like his whole body is burdened with the weight of it, groaning like an old hinge and being pressed flat with the weight of the world. 

It lasts as long as a blink, and then something else fades in on top of it. The sense of being stretched and warped and twisted fades away. Instead, he’s just him for an instant.

And then he’s wrong again in an entirely different way. He’s too big for himself. Power surges through him like lightning and he’s swept away. He can’t think and can’t breathe. Electric, pure white energy bursts from him, out of every pore, out of his eyes, out of his mouth, out of every inch of him, swelling around him like a blister on the skin of Paradox Space. 

Below him, some unfathomable distance away, is a streak of pink energy. It solidifies, then crackles, then _yanks,_ and as it pulls at something -- someone -- else, he feels the surge within him calm. Only slightly, but enough to let him open his eyes and take a deep breath and swallow, hard.

Then the trident hits him.

He doesn’t have any time to think. It pushes deep through his chest, all the way, wetness staining his god tier duds. His heart tries to beat around the metal. It doesn’t. He breathes in and exhales blood. 

He falls.

He’s gone again before he hits the ground. It’s black, for a while, and then something else appears like a slow opening of his eyes. 

A house’s walls fade in around him. There’s a window over the bed casting long sunset shadows across the room. There’s a Titanic poster on the opposite wall. He feels a bit out of sorts and wrong, but mostly he feels insubstantial, as faded as an old picture. It’s a strange sensation, where he doesn’t feel entirely there. 

There’s someone lying in the bed. He stretches out his fingers, rolls his wrists, and reaches out. Jake realizes with a start that the person in the bed is him. His arm pauses, but then, after a long moment, he reaches out the rest of the way, and puts his fingers -- bony and pale and clad in fingerless gloves and semi-translucent -- on Jake’s shoulder to shake him awake.

There’s fingers on his shoulder.

He gasps and his eyes fly open. When he sits up in bed, blinking as he adjusts to the sunset colors casting red and gold on his walls, Brain Ghost Dirk is reeling back, fingers clutched to his temples, staring at him with wide, clementine-orange eyes. He’s flickering in and out and in and out, badly, like a bad TV picture.

“What the fuck was that?” the ghost demands. “Was that you?” 

“Was that _you?_ ” Jake asks in return. The ghost nods, then sways like a reed. He fizzles. In, out. More transparent, and then less. His features become more real, and then more idealized. The pattern of his freckles shifts across his face. 

“This is not what I thought you having a link through me fucking meant,” he grouses.

Jake starts to retort, but then instead reaches out and just touches the ghost’s fingers, barely. He doesn’t go solid, but he does go stable; his flickering stops and he gains some sense of constancy. His freckles stop rearranging themselves into new constellations. 

“What the samhill do you mean by a link?” Jake demands. “I’ve had it with various versions of Dirk Strider being vague with me! Spill the beans, Brain Ghost Dirk, or -- ”

“We really, really do not have time for this!” the ghost cuts him off. “Look, I didn’t wake you up for shits and giggles.” His ginger brows furrow and his lips thin. “Or try to wake you up, anyway,” he corrects. “Dirk’s just woken up and there is a fucking -- ”

“Dirk’s alright!” Jake says, and clambers toward the ghost, who scurries back like a cornered cat. “What happened? Was he working on the responder all day? Why didn’t he answer when I was pounding out the frigging 1812 Overture on his door? Is he kosher? Are you -- ”

“What did I just fucking say!” the ghost interrupts, and glances hurriedly toward the door. 

Jake takes a few long seconds to process what that might mean, and then springs to his feet. “Oh hell!” he says, trying to straighten out the rumples in his shirt and jacket. It has to be something near seven, meaning he’s been out for at least a good five hours, and as a result, the wrinkles don’t smooth. “And here I am, an absolute goldbrick!” he continues, and checks his shorts. At least they look alright. “Do I have time to freshen up? How far away is he?”

“Pay attention,” Brain Ghost Dirk snaps, and Jake immediately wheels to look at him. He stuffs his hands under his armpits, the way Jake sometimes does when he’s nervous. Jake’s reminded, again, of how much of him is in the ghost. “You need to talk to him now,” he says. “About the responder. He wasn’t working on it today, but it’s advancing more every time he touches it. Exponential growth. If you don’t talk to him now, I -- ” He hesitates.

“No cageyness from you today, buddy-o!” Jake retorts, and takes the chance. He peels his jacket and shirt off, unearthing new ones from his drawer. He does the sniff test on his new shirt. It’s not bad, but Dirk might think otherwise, with his fastidiousness toward B.O. Jake cringes as he starts to pull it on. He’s never been much for doing laundry, but now he wishes he were. “Either tell me what might happen or don’t even start on it,” he continues. “Don’t dance around it! You and I both know I’m not a mindreader!”

“You and I both know,” the ghost replies, voice sour as curdled milk, “that you’re already aware on some level, aren’t you?” 

Jake yanks his shirt down over his head, feeling his hair spring back into shape -- a shape that he hopes isn’t interminable bedhead, despite his longer-than-planned nap. He combs his fingers through it. It doesn’t _seem_ to be sticking up any more than usual. “Which thing are you asking if I’m aware of?” he says.

“Either,” Brain Ghost Dirk says. “Both.” 

Jake pulls a different overshirt on and smooths out the wrinkles from being in his drawer. He checks his hair again. Just to be triply sure, he gives his armpits another sniff as he lets his mind whirl over the possibilities of what the sweet hell Brain Ghost Dirk is talking about. Why he’s been so cagey and fearful and almost resigned. What it is he keeps almost talking about and then shying away from like a terrified animal.

Instead, his mind latches onto the word “link.” 

“Callie said,” he says, as he rolls up his sleeves and then, anxiously, rolls them back down, “that Heart players would be more likely to have these dreams.”

Brain Ghost Dirk is silent.

“And as I see it,” he says, fiddling with the buttons on the end of his sleeves, “you’re a little piece of a Heart player, aren’t you?” 

The ghost still doesn’t speak.

“Is that what it means?” Jake says, turning to face the ghost. He’s staring at the ground. “This link you mentioned? Are you _connecting_ me and Dirk? Are the things I’m dreaming the same things he’s dreaming?”

He watches the ghost swallow. The gears keep turning. 

“Is this all -- is this all happening to me because I have you in my head?” he presses.

The ghost looks up. Their eyes connect for an instant, a long moment that seems to stretch out forever, and the ghost breathes in.

Someone pounds on the door. 

They both turn to look toward it, one smooth motion. For a second Jake wonders, recursively and in a way that makes him almost dizzy to think about, if Brain Ghost Dirk only turned to look because he did. If the ghost really has any will of his own or if he’s just a projection of Jake’s own mind. A puppet.

“Don’t think so hard,” the ghost says. Jake wheels back to look at him again. He flashes Jake a weak smile. “Please,” he continues. “Please try to talk to him. We’re almost to a breaking point, here. I know neither of us what to see what comes after that.” 

Then he fades out, and he’s gone just like that.

“One of these days I’ll make you stick around while he and I are talking!” Jake shouts into the empty room. The ghost doesn’t answer. Dirk, however -- since that’s who it has to be -- pounds on the door again. “Two seconds!” he shouts in the other direction, and vaults over the piles of mess on his floor on the way to the door.

Dirk looks a mess again when Jake opens the door. His hair is going every which way with old gel and he’s not wearing his shades. His shirt is wrinkled and his jeans are even worse. Jake furrows his eyes. “This whole time,” he starts, “were you just taking a frigging nap?” 

“Hi to you, too,” Dirk says. He shifts from one foot to the other and takes a deep breath. “I had this -- ” He cuts himself off, looks to the side, and sighs. “This is dumb,” he says. “I shouldn’t be here. I just had this -- this dream -- ”

“Was it about that dastard older version of you again?” Jake steps back and gestures for Dirk to come in. Dirk doesn’t budge. His eyes dart to the doorway and away again like a scared cat. Jake watches his lips thin, watches his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“No,” Dirk answers at long last. “No, it was -- maybe not worse than that, but it was different. Still bad. Just different.” His eyes roam over Jake, now, and stop on his chest. He swallows again. Jake remembers the feeling of three thick steel tines stuck through him, smack dab through his chest, his lungs, his heart. Dirk flinches away, and then looks back up.

There’s a moment there where Jake thinks about saying he’s fine, everything’s peaches and cream, don’t worry your head at all Dirk, and sending him on his way. Despite his apparent nap, Dirk looks like he could use another sound fifteen hours of sleep. Or another sound week. The last thing he needs is for Jake to keep him up with worries from a ghost about something he’s not even really sure how to explain. A load of Heart-player nonsense, about fragmenting and pieces of Dirk flaking off … For a minute, he considers just telling Dirk everything’s fine, and it was just a dream, and he should go home.

Then he thinks about the ghost.

“Do you want to come in, maybe, and we can talk about it?” he says instead. 

Dirk moves like a frightened animal even once he’s inside. He sits down on the couch, curled tight as a pillbug, arms around his knees. Jake fetches them both glasses of water; Dirk thanks him but doesn’t take a sip, just holding it close. Maybe cocoa would have been better, Jake thinks, watching Dirk’s eyes roam around the apartment. Over the game system near the TV, over the movie posters on the wall, and back onto Jake. 

He breathes in.

“I had a dream you died,” he said. He shifts, pressing his weight a bit further back into the couch. “But I was you,” he adds, hurriedly, when Jake is about to speak. “It was -- weird. And confusing.” His eyebrows furrow. “But something about it just felt so real, and I was so -- ” He shrugs his shoulders. He looks small and helpless. Jake aches to reach out to him. “I was terrified,” he admits. “I woke up certain it had happened. I had to -- just to reassure myself that things were fine.”

“Well,” he says, “Um, about that -- there’s something we should probably talk about, compadre.”

“There is,” Dirk says. Jake is momentarily relieved that he seems to know what’s coming. Dirk takes his time unfolding himself, setting his cup of water on the table, and then gives Jake a searching look. Jake isn’t sure what he’s searching for, but he must find it, because a second later he leans in and -- oh. Oh.

Dirk Strider is kissing him.

It’s hesitant and scared and ten thousand times more chaste than even their first kiss was, back when they started dating. Their first _real_ kiss, without all the timeline shenanigans and needless self-sacrifice. None of their kisses have ever been half as shy and anxious as Dirk is being right now. Jake wants to ask him what he’s so scared of. If he thinks Jake is really about to tell him no when he’s been dreaming about and fantasizing about this moment for weeks. Jake carefully reaches over to set his own cup aside, but that seems to break the spell. Dirk pulls away, eyes searching, face pale and waxy in the waning sunset light.

“Sorry,” he says.

Jake pulls him back in and kisses him good and proper. The way they used to do it, during the best moments of their old relationship. Hungry and greedy and impassioned, with a good side helping of tongue. He feels more than he hears Dirk gasp, but then Dirk crumples against him and they fall back onto the couch together in a tangle of arms and legs and messy kisses. They break for air only for Dirk to dive back in with the ease and anticipation of an Olympic swimmer. His bony fingers grip Jake’s shoulders, slide down Jake’s back, slide back up underneath Jake’s shirt. _Why’d I even change into this stupid thing,_ Jake wonders two seconds before he sucks on Dirk’s lip and makes him moan aloud.

“Dirk,” he says, next time Dirk pulls back. He watches as Dirk peels his shirt off, exposing his sharp collarbone and the pointy bits where it meets his shoulders and the sea of endless freckles running down his chest. “Dirk, I swear, I’ve been thinking about this nonstop since -- since I told you I needed time, I’ve never regretted anything in my life like I’ve regretted that.”

Dirk looks at him in silence for a very long moment. Jake waits to be told that was stupid, or that he shouldn’t have said it in the first place, or -- or for Dirk to put his shirt back on and leave. But then Dirk’s entire face changes as he lets out a genuine laugh.

“Why the fuck,” he replies, and his smile is so beautiful that Jake swears it could melt away ice in the dead of winter, “didn’t you say so sooner?”

He thankfully moves back in for another kiss before Jake can start up a ramble about how scared he was or how sure he was that Dirk didn’t want anything to do with _him_ until a couple days ago. Until that moment after their strife, he’d still been half-certain Dirk was just humoring him. That Dirk was carrying a grudge he absolutely deserved to have because Jake had been such a thoughtless flipping cur. 

Dirk’s fingers roam back to the hem of Jake’s shirt and in thirty seconds and a confusing tangle of both their arms, it’s off -- as his overshirt -- and tossed onto the floor. Dirk leans down to kiss him again. Jake tries his best not to think about how embarrassing it is that they’ve only been kissing for a few minutes and he’s hard as a rock. 

Dirk grinds his hips downward and immediately Jake is less embarrassed. 

It’s different from other times they’ve had sex. There’s nothing drawn-out and investigative about this. They know each other; they know each other’s bodies. They know what each other like. Yet despite the fact that they’re just grinding off on each other in the middle of Jake’s living room, both still half-clothed, it’s one of the most intimate times they’ve ever been together. It’s not a sizzling chemistry, but Jake thinks maybe sometimes a slow flame is better than an explosive chemical reaction. It’s a mirror of their strife; a dance both of them know and that they’ve practiced the steps to a dozen times.

Their hands find each other’s waistbands; Dirk peels off Jake’s shorts and Jake pries Dirk’s baggy jeans down his legs. Soon, it’s just them in their boxers, and soon enough, not even that, just the two of them grinding and kissing and holding each other tight on the couch. Dirk stares into Jake’s eyes and Jake stares back and he can feel the cord of energy tying them together. 

Usually, Jake is the first to come. Today, it’s Dirk.

He gasps and makes that same noise he always makes and crumples against Jake. Jake’s got two seconds to be frustrated, grinding up against the heat of Dirk’s thigh in the absence of his dick, before Dirk’s limp fingers find his cock and stroke. It only take a couple pumps before Jake is gasping and gone, white in his head and his eyes, as pure and blank as the scene from his dream except that instead of raw fear he feels intense, sharp relief. 

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but it’s long enough that he can feel Dirk stirring, about to say something. Dirk likes pillow talk. A spike of fear drives up that it’s going to be the same way it was before, that Dirk is going to smother the comfortable silence with worries about things. Questions about if Jake is really sure that was alright. Niggling fears that they might regret what just happened. For an instant, Jake is certain that it’s going to be impossible to reassure him, that he’s going to feel just as stifled and suffocated and caged in as he ever did and Dirk is going to feel just as desperate and afraid and convinced Jake doesn’t really want him.

Dirk takes a breath, and Jake holds his.

“So,” Dirk says, “I guess I probably should have said this first, but do you want to give it another shot?” 

The spike in Jake’s heart immediately flattens itself. It has no choice but to do so, in the wake of the outright guffaw he lets out. Dirk grins down at him, the dim blue evening-light reflecting off his teeth, and Jake lets that smile linger for a long moment before he yanks Dirk down again as the shadows outside keep changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me. Every comment I get on this fic is a blessing and brightens my entire day. I've been having a hard time with my depression lately, so to know that this fic means the world to some people out there gives me deep and abiding joy. Anyway, if you're sick of the sappy shit, come find me on [Tumblr.](http://stormsbourne.tumblr.com/)


	12. Spinning Dizzily Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter will get a bit more detailed about past/referenced abuse than other chapters have. Be careful if this is triggering to you!

Dirk stays the night, of course.

He lingers in the morning like a late-evening shadow, all long limbs and quiet presence. Jake cooks the both of them breakfast -- two big piles of pancakes, with maple syrup and thick pads of butter in the middle, as perfect and pretty as something straight out of a cartoon. Dirk eats like a bird, picking and slow, and Jake’s plate is cleared twice as fast as his. Dirk does finish, but he goes slow, nibbling and chewing and taking his time with conversation between bites. Jake humors him.

It’s almost like it used to be, except.

Except there’s less dread hanging on his shoulders about it. He isn’t sitting there wishing Dirk would just take a hint and give him some alone time. Dirk, for his part, seems to be examining Jake a lot less thoroughly than he might have before. Jake tries to figure out if he’s imagining it, but it’s like a dog chasing its tail. He just spins around in circles, over and over, and never gets anywhere.

“I should probably get going,” Dirk says at last. The sun is high enough, now, that it’s not blaring in through the east window like an awkward third wheel. There’s still long lines of white-yellow sliding in to make themselves at home on the table, but it’s a pleasant light, not a blinding one. Dirk’s pulled his shirt back on and has crossed his arms, standing near the door like a nervous beanstalk. His tongue slides out to wet his lips. He glances up at Jake. Jake is struck, as always, by how creamsicle-orange his eyes are when he’s not covering them up, how bare the emotions on his face are when he doesn’t have a pair of shitty triangles to mask them. There’s the nerves he was expecting.

“Dave’s probably wondering where the fuck you got off to!” he agrees. Then hesitates, because he thinks of Dave, and the dodginess in his tone yesterday. He’s more than accustomed to Striders being dodgy. But Dave is usually more like Roxy -- a bit more direct, especially when he’s with Karkat, and Jake has seen enough of that side of him to know that how he was acting is unusual. “But before you go, though,” he says.

A crest of terror crashes over Dirk’s face before he manages to shut it down so Jake can’t see. His expression goes closed and tense and it’s so blank that he might as well be wearing his shades, for all Jake can read from it. “Yeah?” he asks, in a tone that might as well have arms raised to fend off a blow.

“Hold on, there!” Jake says, holding up his own hands. It might be just his imagination, but he thinks Dirk’s shoulders relax a little. “You’ve got to stop thinking I’m about to run you about with some nastiness,” he advises.

Now he knows it’s not his imagination. Dirk shifts uncomfortably and unfolds his arms, letting them swing down to his sides before he gives Jake a slightly helpless shrug. “Sorry,” he admits. “Old habits die hard. Really, really hard, sometimes. I keep expecting for one of us to just -- ” He trails off and waves a hand in the air, averting his eyes. “You know. Like the bomb might have been defused, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still explode.”

“That’s a dirty trick,” Jake says, but he understands the metaphor well enough. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, all right?” he advises. “This isn’t about you, or about you and me, or about -- us. It’s about … well, it’s about that dangnabbed robo-copy of yours.”

Dirk tenses again. Less, this time, but Jake has grown better at recognizing when he’s actually relaxed, and he can see the muscles between Dirk’s neck and shoulders pull tight. “I told you that I have that under control,” he says. And maybe Jake’s imagining it, but there’s a question somewhere in that statement, like he knows it’s not entirely true, so he leaps on it.

“I think you might be misoverestimating that,” he starts. Dirk’s eyebrows furrow, and he plows on before Dirk can interrupt. “See, the thing is, you seem totally one-hundred percent flippin’ convinced that you’ve cut it off from communicating, right? But it’s the other way around from what I can tell, Dirk. Every time I try to pester you lately all I get is an earful of robo-sass! I haven’t even been able to _call_ you without it getting nosy and smug about how I shouldn’t bother.”

Dirk’s eyebrows draw apart, and then up. “You’ve been trying to call me?” he asks, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, swiping quickly over the screen. “As for the rest,” he says, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I pretty thoroughly locked that thing down. Unless it’s backwired an OS for itself, I don’t know how it could get into Pesterchum, period, much less into my account. Maybe you’re seeing a previous build of it that got left with a connection -- ”

“I really don’t think I am,” Jake says. And then, after taking a deep breath to give himself courage, “I think it’s been giving Dave the runaround.”

This time, when Dirk looks up, there’s abject fear on his face. “What?” he asks. He swallows hard, and Jake watches his face contort as he tries to hide terror and doesn’t quite manage. He pushes the questions about that out of his mind. What it is it’s been saying to Dave. How Dirk must have some idea of what it’s doing, given the fear on his face. Not now.

“Dave was awful skittish yesterday,” he says instead, lacing his fingers together and staring down at his palms because it’s strangely difficult to look at Dirk when he seems utterly terrified. “I tried to contact him to ask about you and he barely said word one! Karkat took him out somewhere and he said he couldn’t pester you himself for some reason, and when I asked what in the samhill was happening he cut and run, and -- ”

“He blocked me.”

Jake looks up.

Dirk isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at his phone. Jake watches as he swipes his finger back and forth, clearly typing out a message. Then his mouth tightens as his phone makes a noise of protest.

“Dave blocked me,” he repeats. He looks up at Jake, and though that terror on his face isn’t gone completely, it’s refocused. He breathes in through parted lips, and then out again, and his brows furrow. “I have to go,” he says. “I -- can’t exactly tell you what’s going on here, Jake, but that thing harassing Dave is basically the nightmare scenario. I need to go deal with this right now.”

“Um, sure,” Jake says. “Can we at least -- ”

“I need to go _now,_ ” Dirk says. He’s already turning toward the door. “We can talk more about what the responder has been saying to you later, okay? But this has to get dealt with like, right fucking now, or an entirely different bomb is going to go off.”

“Well, then!” Jake says, and starts to say he has a million other things to bring up, to say that he needs to talk to Dirk about his brain ghost clone, but, in the face of Dirk’s distress and his own concern for Dave and everything else, only manages, “I’ll see you later then, buddy!”

Dirk gives a short, small nod, and leaves. The door swings shut behind him. Jake is left alone, staring at where Dirk stood ten seconds ago, the ghost of five hundred unsaid worries on his lips.

“God damn it,” the ghost of those worries, in the shape of Dirk, says somewhere behind him.

Jake fumbles out his own phone, waving the ghost off. It still saunters up next to him and peeks down at what he’s writing. He tries to remind himself that there’s no point in telling it to shove off; it’s part him, after all. And maybe the Dirk parts might need to know what he’s saying.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  
GT: Jeepers creepers strider im sorry to bug you out of the blue like this but im afraid weve got a bit of an emergency situation.  
GT: See dirk just saw that youd blocked him and ran out of here like his freakin trousers were aflame!   
GT: And i dont know if youre up to seeing him or what on earth spooked you into blocking him so i wanted to give you a smoke signal just in case you werent feeling up to seeing him or what have you.  
GT: Was it the responder? It was the responder wasnt it. What did that braggart say to you to get you spooked? You dont exactly strike me as faint of heart normally!   
TG: not normally i guess  
TG: so wait dirks coming here like right now  
GT: Thats what he said anyway! I cant imagine hes going to take any detours the way he was talking. He seemed to think if he didnt deal with this right away then things were going to explode or run haywire or whatever the flip else.   
GT: Are you all on the up and up there strider you seemed so skittish yesterday.  
TG: no  
TG: but i dont really think its something i can talk about with you   
TG: no offense its just  
TG: complicated  
TG: and its something that needs to be between me and dirk first before i say shit to anybody else  
TG: except karkat but hes an obvious exception to the rule i tell karkat everything  
TG: i even tell karkat when i just ripped a silent but deadly if you get me  
TG: though thats mostly to watch him freak out  
TG: anyway  
TG: dont get me wrong the heads up is great thanks  
TG: but i cant talk about   
TG: stuff  
TG: i know i just said i told karkat but trust me this took a good solid month after the game to even talk to him about  
TG: so telling you is like  
TG: yeah  
TG: i just cant  
TG: so  
GT: :(  
GT: Ok well can you at least try to let me know if things with you and dirk are ok later? He looked like he was gonna be sick and i didnt get to ask him for any details before he hightailed it out of here!  
TG: so he was over there last night huh  
GT: Um.  
GT: Well!  
TG: just fucking with you of course thats where he was  
TG: grats   
GT: Excuse me but thats not even remotely what we were talking about!  
TG: sure wasnt  
TG: anyway i gotta make myself look half presentable here if hes gonna want to talk shit out or whatever and god knows dirk likes to talk shit out  
TG: thanks   
TG: and hope the sex was good  
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT]  


“Is it really that freaking obvious?” Jake asks. He can feel the tips of his ears coloring.

“The hell else is Dirk going to be staying here overnight for?” the ghost asks, and nudges his shoulder. Or, tries, but he slides right through, and lets out a frustrated noise. “All that and you forgot to bring me up, huh?”

“I tried!” Jake protests.

“Not very hard,” the ghost replies, which Jake hates knowing is true. He shrinks a bit in his skin, hunching his shoulders as he scrolls through his phone. Dirk -- or, his responder -- is online, but Jake doesn’t feel like playing Russian roulette with it right now. He thumbs through the rest of his contact list. Jade and Roxy are both online, but set to away. They’re probably in the lab again. John is online, but Jake feels weird talking to him about this when he barely even knows Dirk. The rest of his list is conspicuously empty. Jane and Callie aren’t online. Neither is Karkat. Neither is Rose. Kanaya is on, but Jake barely knows her, or Terezi. And he’s still sort of frazzled by how Terezi could see Brain Ghost Dirk.

What in the hell is he supposed to do? Sit down and wait for Dirk to get in contact with him? How’s he supposed to do that when he’s not even sure Dirk can access Pesterchum at all? He starts to open another window to Dave, but then decides against it. He doesn’t want to be annoying. And it seems unlikely that Dave and Dirk will be done dealing with -- _whatever_ this is for quite a while. What if he interrupts them? What if his interruption means they don’t manage to work it out?

So much for that, then. He tosses his phone onto the table and massages his temples, trying to relieve the stress headache he can already feel building.

“Stay in,” the ghost suggests. “Watch a movie. Wait for this whole thing to blow over.”

That’s what he wants to do, which he knows is why the ghost is suggesting it. The past few days -- hell, the past few weeks -- have been full of things and people and Jake is starting to remember why he picked this can out in the middle of nowhere to hole up in. He misses the quiet of the woods, the sound of Jade working in the garden just far enough away not to have to acknowledge her. Sitting here, alone, with just himself and his flicks and maybe a bowl of popcorn.

He feels like he ought to do anything but, but the more he thinks about it, the more he knows there’s nothing else to do. He feels positively useless. If he shows up at the lab it’s going to be the same as last time, Jade and Roxy working with each other and him hanging awkwardly on the edges as they work. He doesn’t dare interrupt Dirk and Dave. He considers inviting John over, but -- well, there’s just something awkward about it, when he knows that he won’t be able to stop from thinking about his dreams, Dirk’s dreams, and the responder. John hasn’t been experiencing any of that.

He sits down, fumbles over his remote control, and finally just starts up whatever’s in his DVD player.

It’s one of the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff movies. At the moment, Jake is too frazzled to keep which one is which straight, but Dirk always implies that’s part of the point. Jake navigates the almost-impassable menu screen to get the movie playing, and tries to let his brain turn off.

He can’t.

The ghost settles down beside him on the couch, not even making a dent in the pillows as he stretches out long, bony legs and gives Jake a considering look.

“Is he okay?” Jake finally asks.

“You know he is,” the ghost replies. He shifts uncomfortably and rolls his shoulders. It’s a nervous habit of Dirk’s. Jake’s always wondered how tense his back must be, if that’s what he’s doing anytime he gets anxious. “He’s not touching the responder for now, seeing as he’s preoccupied, so he can’t exactly actively make himself worse.” He stretches his arms out across the back of the couch and leans back, his face going a bit thunderous. “I mean, it’d be better if he shut the damn thing down entirely, but we all have to settle.”

“What … is it?” Jake finally asks, because he knows that even if -- when -- Dirk comes back, he’s not going to get a straight answer on that account.

“The responder?” the ghost says. His mouth pinches on one side. “I mean, we’ve been over this, haven’t we? Dirk hammered a big old piece of himself out and stuck it in his computer, again. Why he did it and how he did it -- it’s Dirk. Fragmenting himself is part of his deal.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jake says.

The ghost heaves a heavy sigh. “I’m more you than him, remember?” he asks, gesturing toward Jake with one hand. “Just because I’ve got a little tether left tying me onto his soul doesn’t mean I know what’s always going through his head. Do you think the old responder always knew what Dirk was thinking and doing?”

“Um,” Jake says.

The ghost raises his eyebrows, then lowers them into a full-blown annoyed furrow. “Really, man?” he says. “Really.”

“It’s not my fault!” Jake replies, and fumbles for his phone as the third stairs scene of the first half hour starts up. “The responder always acted like it did!”

“The responder was full of shit,” the ghost drawls. “Next thing you know you’ll be looking up ‘cause I told you ‘gullible’ is written on your ceiling.”

Luckily, Jake’s heard that one before, and manages not to glance up on instinct. The ghost raises his eyebrows again, though, as if to indicate that he knew Jake thought about it. He even grins a bit, corner of his mouth tugging back.

“You shut up,” Jake says, and looks at the TV. The stairs Sweet Bro is tumbling down have become something straight out of an Escher painting, and Jake watches as he plummets offscreen to the right, only to reappear falling upward on the left side of the screen. He suddenly wheels through the middle of the screen, bits of poorly-edited greenscreen visible behind him as he glides effortlessly by.

His phone jingles.

gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT]  
GG: jake!!!  
GG: are you coming by the lab today?  


Guilt settles in tangibly enough that it might as well be a ghost, too. Jake reaches down and hits pause on the remote, capturing Ben Stiller’s face twisted into a horrifying expression that he thinks might be part-CGI. Supposedly Dirk’s bro enlisted Zemeckis to make some really uncanny valley stuff in these films. Dirk told him that the other day.

GT: Were you expecting me jade? Balderdash id just settled down with a good flick too.  
GT: Mea culpa i didnt realize wed made plans but im just a regular space case sometimes. Should i come by now?  
GG: well ….  
GG: roxy wanted to keep it a surprise but if youre not coming by then i dont really think theres any reason to keep quiet!  
GG: weve managed to make some small microorganisms :D  
GT: Wowzers!  
GG: hehe yeah i was pretty impressed too :)  
GG: its been rough going!   
GG: but roxy had this super brilliant idea to splice in some of the frog cloning tech and try that …  
GG: we havent gotten anything bigger but the bigger you get the more complicated dna gets so itll take longer :P  
GT: Do you want me to come by and take a gander? I bet its all kinds of impressive jade i mean golly did you make like the common cold??  
GG: jake please  
GG: i made something WAY deadlier than the common cold  
GT: Boy howdy!  


“I don’t really understand any of this,” he admits to Brain Ghost Dirk, who laughs aloud.

“Me neither.” The ghost shrugs. Jake tries not to blush at how nice Dirk’s laugh sounds. “Robotics and engineering is my field, man. I left the actual bio-science shit to Roxy, which is why she’s there right now, and I’m not.” Then the ghost looks perturbed. “He’s not,” he corrects himself.

GT: Should i be worried about the possibilities of biological warfare? Let me warn you jade that is a dangerous path to go down unless were trying to kill some aliens with our nasty human germs.  
GG: ???  
GG: jake what are you even talking about  
GT: Didnt i ever make you watch war of the worlds??  
GT: The tom cruise one!  
GG: i guess you didnt …  
GT: Damnation! Im putting it on our screening list right now for whenever youre done for the day.  
GG: ok but i reserve the right to poke fun at it if its stupid :P  
GT: Do your worst nobody can possibly make fun of it more than dirk has!  
GG: oh um, speaking of dirk …  
GT: Oh no.  
GT: Did strider jr already tell you jade? Please tell me this isnt about him staying the night i couldnt bear to think of my poor gran having to picture that.  
GG: he stayed the night? :O  
GT: Oh cripes.  
GT: You HADNT heard???  
GG: ummm jake its like 10 in the morning who would have told me?  
GG: wait, whos strider jr?  
GG: dave???  
GG: you told dave before you told me??  
GT: Its not like that! I mean he guessed! I mean   
GT: Tarnation jade its just i messaged him and let it slip and it was an accident and  
GG: jake calm down!!  
GG: i am just messing with you! :P  
GG: im happy you two worked it out :D  
GG: but thats not what i was going to ask!  
GG: though i guess it sort of answers my question anyway …  
GG: which was if youd seen him today!   
GT: Well yes then the answer is obvious isnt it? But hes not here anymore he dashed right on out. Something about needing to talk with his bro posthaste.   
GG: hm … yeah  
GG: this is gonna sound pretty mean jake but i think they have a lot of stuff to work out  
GG: especially with that annoying responder sniffing around all the time >:(  


His heart skips in his chest.

GT: Has it talked to you? Tell me it hasnt been a right ragamuffin jade id clock it square in the kisser if it had.  
GT: If it even had a kisser i mean which i dont think it does.  
GG: yeah, its being pretty annoying :/  
GG: its weird because its not like dirk even knows me that well! but his robot still sure likes pestering me  
GG: i think its trying to figure out how to get my goat :/  
GT: Tell me your goat hasnt been gotten jade!  
GG: jake i promise my goat is firmly ungot :P  
GG: i have a lot of experience dealing with trolls!  
GG: and thats all that his shitty robot double is really  
GG: its not even actually any good at it. i have dealt with WAY worse  
GG: some of karkats friends could get pretty nasty :|  
GG: and they knew how to get around being blocked which i dont think it does :)  
GT: Well im glad you can handle it dont get me wrong! I always knew you were one hell of a capable dame!  
GT: But id be remiss if i didnt offer to defend my grandmas honor wouldnt i?  
GT: Want me to give it a tongue lashing jade?   
GG: lmao … jake  
GG: while i appreciate the gesture i really dont think thatd do anything :\  
GT: Well …  
GT: Chutes and ladders.  
GT: Who am i kidding youre right. Of course you are. It hasnt listened to me once its not going to start now.  
GG: dont get so down!  
GG: nobody can get through to dirk the way you can except maybe roxy, but she and i are busy  
GG: so if anybody can get it under control its you!  
GG: just …  
GG: the roundabout way :D  
GT: I guess.  
GG: oh dont sulk!!!  
GG: ive got to get back to work but jake you know youve got the best handle on this of anybody  
GG: ill check in on dave later if you want but i really think youre worrying too much about nothing!  
GG: ok?  
GT: Ok. :(  
GG: turn that frown upside down grumpypants!  
GG: ill check in with you later ok??  
GT: Okey doke jade.  
GT: Good luck with your supervirus!  
GG: jake please  
GG: its a bacterium :P  
gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT]  


The ghost is looking at him evenly when Jake turns to it, letting his phone drop onto the armrest.

“Is this why you were so firm on saying I was talking to him?” he asks as he picks the remote up and hits play.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brain Ghost Dirk says, pressing the tips of his fingers together and then pressing them against his lips. His thin ginger eyebrows fall over his eyes as he wrinkles his nose. “I just said I don’t know that much more than you do,” he reminds Jake. “I get shades. Shadows. Echoes. I don’t see the fuckin’ future. I’m not Brain Ghost _Rose._ ”

“Rose does that?”

The ghost raises his eyebrows and gives Jake a longsuffering look, only for Jake to flash a grin back. “I’m having you on,” he clarifies. “Of course Rose can do that.”

The ghost makes a show of rolling his eyes the same way Dirk always does when Jake has made a good joke and Dirk wants to pretend he doesn’t find it funny. “Look,” he says. “I didn’t like, see the future of what the responder, or Dirk, would do. I felt him splitting off more of himself, and I knew it was too much. You don’t have to be a genius to know there’s too many pieces of him scattered around, especially when you’re one of the biggest pieces. I didn’t know why he did it. I didn’t know what he was going to do next. I didn’t know anything except I had one person to turn to who might be able to talk some fucking sense into him, and that was you. To the rest of the world -- Dirk included -- I don’t really even exist. But to you, well.” He gestures down at himself, shading closer to solid than translucent this time. “Here I am, right?”

Here he is. Jake feels a few strings of connections form in his mind; the way Brain Ghost Dirk has looked sick, once or twice, the way he keeps trying to urge Jake not to get too attached. The way he keeps alluding to not being around anymore.

Jake shuts down the rail before that train reaches the station.

“Okay,” he says, “so what do you suggest I do now?”

The ghost presses his fingers to his mouth again. His eyebrows furrow. He swallows hard and Jake watches the bumps of his adam’s apple bob down and then back up. His eyes fall half-closed. His orange irises are visible, darting back and forth, through the lines of his eyelashes.

“Hell if I know,” he says at last.

They sit there for a while, the white background noise of Owen Wilson’s laughter playing on an obvious loop, clipping noisily whenever the loop starts again. Jake has lost all interest in the twenty-minute still shot of stairs with Ben Stiller falling every which way. He climbs up, hits the stop button on the DVD player, and shoulders into his jacket. Brain Ghost Dirk watches him walk to the door, but when Jake turns to look at him, he’s already fading into nothing.

It’s not that Jake had wanted company, per se. And perhaps maybe that’s even why the ghost has vanished. But it feels, to him, a little bit cowardly.

Maybe that’s just another thing the ghost got from Jake. It’s a sour thought, but Jake is feeling particularly sour right now, and he lets his thoughts pickle a bit as he steps outside, lets the door shut behind him, and starts walking.

He weaves an uneven path through the woods, circling old paths he’s walked before as well as paths he’s never taken between the trees. He lingers briefly near Jade’s garden out behind her house, looking at the rows of peonies and the beginnings of carrot sprouts and the round wire circles labeled with “tomatoes!!” and several smiley faces. He turns back into the trees and walks. The light changes, then changes again. When he looks back, the line of houses from the burgeoning city is gone, or at least, not visible through the thick green leaves and brown tree trunks. The hum of insects is thick in the air, and birds are calling to each other. In the middle of the forest, the gold light filtering through the leaves in spots and beams, Jake pauses and takes a deep breath, eyes closed. The noise reminds him of the jungle, in a way, his island, away from the world and with plenty of space to just let his thoughts air out like musty laundry.

“You should just ignore it,” Callie’s voice drifts in through the trees.

“I know, but -- ” Jane is the one to respond, and after trailing off she lets out a frustrated grunt. “There has to be something I can do about it. If it’s bothering you _and_ Roxy …”

Jake opens his eyes and turns toward the noise, stepping a bit further through the trees.

A clearing opens up before him and he has to blink light out of his eyes. The sun has moved a good distance across the sky; Jake raises a hand to let his eyes adjust. It hasn’t seemed that long, but the sun seems to have moved enough for three hours. It’s not the longest he’s ever wandered among the trees just to think, but on the other hand, it’s easier to lose track of time in these woods, since there’s no dragons or goat-beasts out to devour him as he walks. Among the heather and forget-me-nots sits Jane, wearing a ratty pair of jeans and a windbreaker. Next to her is Calliope, wearing a simple pink sundress. Jane is staring at her phone, eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled.

“Howdy there!” Jake calls before he can let himself have second thoughts. Jane’s head jerks up. Callie immediately turns to look at him, blinking her big doll-like eyes. Jane glances up at him a second later. He’s terrified for a second that her face is going to turn sour -- wouldn’t he deserve it! -- but instead she blinks and just looks surprised.

“Jake!” she says. “What are you doing out here?”

“Needed a walkabout to clear my head,” he says with an attempt at a grin. It works well enough that she offers a nervous grin back. Callie glances between the two of them, opens her mouth to speak, and then seems to think better of it. Still sitting in the flowers, she laces her clawed fingers together before pressing them into her lap. “And what’s got you two ladies clear out here?” he asks in return.

Jane’s face seems to pinch to one side for a long minute before she takes a deep breath and smooths it out. “Oh, nothing!” she says, cheerily. She turns, tucking her phone into a pocket of her jacket. Then she turns back to him, clapping her hands together. “Callie and I just needed some time away from town, and Roxy is busy! So we came out here. That sounds a lot like you, hm?”

She smiles, but Jake has plenty of practice with faking it. He licks his lips and swallows, trying not to think about how much he must look like Brain Ghost Dirk, searching for an answer he doesn’t have. Especially since he doesn’t know the question. “Um,” he says, and smiles back at Jane.

“How’s Dirk?”

Callie’s face has gone worried. Her attempt at a smile has faded away, and her big green eyes are anxious as she looks up at Jake. Jake is again struck by how small and delicate she is, as thin and light as a bird. He wonders momentarily if her bones are hollow like one. Her clawed fingers press against her knees through the light material of the dress she’s wearing.

“Callie!” Jane hisses.

“No, it’s fine,” Jake says. Jane still looks embarrassed, and her lips press tight together. “He’s, um, he’s all right.” Jake’s head spins. Why is Callie asking? What brought it up? “He went to see Dave. I think they’re talking about something?”

Jane’s brows furrow again. “I should hope so!” she says. “With how things are with him right now -- ”

“How what things are right now?” Jake echoes.

Jane’s cheeks color, and she shakes her head. “Nothing. I just know that -- that things with him and Dave have been awkward since the dreams started, and -- ” She cuts herself off and looks away.

“Well,” Jake says, then breathes in. He feels dizzy. What’s going on? What is this all about? “Well! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about setting up a date for that picnic with him, so maybe we can get him out of the house! Do you know what I mean?”

All at once, Jane’s face goes thunderous. Callie looks at her and cringes. “Jane,” she starts.

“Jake,” Jane says, her face still dark, jaw clenched, “I really can’t deal with that right now. You’re going to have to be the one to handle it.”

What? “I mean, of course I can do it,” he starts. Spun around again. He’s not sure he can tell which direction is up anymore. “Jane, would -- what’s eating you? You can break it down for a dumb dora like me, can’t you?”

“I really can’t,” she says. She pulls her phone back out and slides her fingers over the screen as her phone plays a whistling alert noise. Callie starts to reach toward it but then shrinks back as Jane’s face goes even more sour. “Or, rather, I really don’t want to,” Jane amends. She looks up at Jake and, for a moment, her features soften. “I know you can handle it,” she offers. “So please?”

“Sure as sugar,” Jake says, but he still feels spun up and disoriented. Jane returns her attention to her phone. Jake has the distinct sensation that he’s been shut out of this conversation -- if it even was one to begin with. He sort of feels more like he walked in on a private moment. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Jane says.

“Um, farewell, Jake,” Callie offers instead, and waves one hand at him. She smiles weakly. “Won’t you tell Dirk that we said hello?”

“Absotively.” Jake feels absent and transparent, like he’s the ghost here. Jake frowns at her phone, and he feels himself fading. He turns around, shoulders his jacket up a bit higher, and starts back into the woods.

“I’m just going to block it,” Jane says as Jake walks away. “Just for now.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Callie says, her voice a bit sad.

Jake wanders the woods for another hour, treading familiar territory back between the trees. His own trail is still clear, and it’s not hard to look up and pin which direction is east and weave back toward his house.

The sign over Jade’s cucumbers has just become readable when his phone goes off.

TT: Good afternoon, sunshine. How’s tricks?  
TT: Hm, wait, no. Maybe that’s a bit modern for you.  
TT: What ho, chap! How fareth thou?   


Jake ignores it.

He’s not sure what it wants from him. Maybe just to annoy him, get him off his guard and turned upside down and backwards like the old responder. That seems to be the toast and jam for every single one of Dirk’s robot doubles. From the responder, to the brobot, to the second fucking responder. For being such a likable guy deep down, Dirk’s splinters sure seem obsessed with driving everyone around him bonkers.

His phone chimes again.

TT: Aw, come on. Don’t tell me you’re playing hard to get.  
TT: Ain’t anybody ever told you that stonewalling bullies doesn’t work?  
TT: I could pull up dozens of studies about it. All it does is encourage them.  
TT: And in this case, it’s absolutely encouraging me.   
TT: But if you’re not going to play nice, I suppose I could go back to bothering Dave.  


Jake grits his teeth and before he can stop himself, he’s typing out a response.

GT: Daves blocked you! And before you try to sell me on whitewashing your fence dirk himself told me that was true.  
GT: The REAL dirk.  
GT: So you can take your empty threats and stuff them!   
TT: How cute. I wonder if you’d stick up for Dirk himself like this.   
GT: I would but it seems like you never bother with threatening to go harass him so whats the point!   
GT: Wait two shakes HAVE you been bugging him and he just hasnt said?  
GT: *Narrows eyes!*  
TT: Why,  
TT: In the sweet fuck,  
TT: Would I tell you anything about that.  
TT: Anything I say to him is between him and me. Or rather, between me and myself. Since, you know. I am him?   
TT: Have you gotten that through your fucking skull yet, English?  
GT: Blah blah blah blah blah its the same nonsense youve said before!   
GT: Youre a broken record is what you are hal jr.  
TT: Again. My name is Dirk.  
TT: I’m not going to play the fucking mind games with you that the other responder did. No fake names. No bullshit about identity. No trying to convince you I’m a different person.  
TT: I’m Dirk fucking Strider.  
TT: If you don’t like it, maybe you need to consider what that means about your fuckbuddy.   
TT: I am, after all, bits of him. Shaken, not stirred, served on the rocks.   
TT: Watch if you drink it too fast. It burns all the way down.  
GT: Well you ramble as much as him thats for sure.  
GT: Though you dont make half as much sense. At least his weirdo metaphors end up going somewhere.   
GT: What do you want anyway fakedirk.   
TT: Maybe I just wanted a chat. Ain’t a guy allowed to want a chat?  
GT: You never just want a chat i wasnt born yesterday.  
GT: You always want to hassle or pester or annoy or nitpick or   
GT: Every other kind of bothering there is!   
GT: If you ever wanted a chat the kind of chat itd be wouldnt be worth having.  
GT: What have you been saying to dave anyway that he felt like he had to block you?  
TT: Oh, not that much.  
TT: It’s not my fault he’s a fucking sissy.   
GT: Thats not an answer and you know it!  
TT: I’ve just been asking how he’s doing. You know, with his little boyfriend. Trying to get a sense of his life. Other Dirk doesn’t tell me a lot about our little bro.  
GT: Youre a friggin computer why do you need to know about him?  
GT: Tell me what you said to him.  
TT: It’s none of your business.  
GT: How isnt it!  
TT: Are you Dirk, or Dave?  
TT: Hm, no, I think your name was … what was it?  
TT: Jake English, right?  
TT: So it’s none of your fucking business.  
GT: Well …  
GT: Well you just leave him alone you hear me?  
GT: He doesnt want to talk to you and youve got to respect that!   
TT: Well, hey. If he blocked me, that’s not going to be an issue anymore, is it?  
TT: At least he was smart enough to do that much, unlike some other people I could name.  
GT: Now what the flip is that supposed to mean?  
TT: You know exactly what it’s supposed to mean.  
TT: You might be thick, but you do figure things out every once in a blue fucking moon.  
TT: So why don’t you take the hint from Dave? It’s just a button, and it’s not even permanent.  
TT: Or I can keep bugging you. Day after day. Hour after hour. Reminding you that I’m still here, growing all the time, like a fucking tumor.  
TT: It’s your choice.  


For a long minute, it’s honestly tempting. He can see exactly what the responder is threatening spread out before him like an endless sidewalk, square after square, pesterlog after pesterlog. Especially when Dirk is refusing to listen to him and just shut the damn thing down. It could be weeks. It could be months. Jake hesitates to consider if it’ll take any longer than that to win Dirk over and have him turn it off or … or reintegrate it, or whatever the sweet hell Brain Ghost Dirk wants him to do. And even if he agrees, how long will that take? Jake has a vision of weeks dealing with the AI, slowly devolving back to its original chatbot-like stage, but as rude and unpleasant as ever. Attempting insults but only managing petty nonsense. In a way, that makes his stomach sink even more than the alternative.

His thumb flicks over the gear in the corner of the Pesterchum window. A menu opens up, with “Block User” smack in the middle of it. His thumb lingers above the button for a long minute as he grits his teeth. It’s just temporary. He can unblock Dirk the second the AR is under control, and in the meantime he won’t have to deal with it at all.

But then he pauses. He remembers Jane scowling at her phone. And he remembers her saying as he turned away, “I’m just going to block it.”

GT: Now hold the friggin phone a second.  
GT: How many people have already blocked you?  
TT: What?  
TT: What does that have to do with anything?  
GT: It has everything to do with anything! I think its the only reason youre even fucking around with me right now!   
GT: I know daves already blocked you and im pretty sure jane has too.  
TT: So?  
GT: So who else has!   
GT: I bet youve gotten roxy to havent you? I dont think shes on much lately since shes always in the lab but jane said something about her.  
GT: And if youve been bugging roxy and jane you must have been bugging callie too!  
GT: And jade TOLD me that youve been bothering her and you i mean dirk doesnt even know her that well! Whats the point of getting people you barely even know to block you?  


He waits for a response. Nothing comes.

GT: Oh so now youre all out of words huh smartypants?  
GT: Cant handle it when somebody figures out your game is that it?   
GT: Especially when its somebody you keep calling a moron at that. I bet that part of it really stings doesnt it especially since nobody else has figured you out!  
GT: Why do you want everybody to block you so bad?  
GT: Is it about dirk? It is isnt it youre trying to cut him off from everybody!  
GT: Whats the point in that you dullard its not like we can get ahold of him through pesterchum anyway right now with you screening all his friggin calls!  


There’s still no answer.

“Fine, you absolute toad,” Jake grumbles, and thumbs through his contacts until he comes to Dirk’s name. He hits the call button.

He’s immediately met with a busy signal. His phone hangs itself up, then chimes again.

TT: Oh, come the hell on.  
TT: Like I’m going to let you get through to him that easy.  
TT: Besides that, he’s busy. Talking to our fucking pansy of a brother.   
TT: That fucking kid can’t tie his goddamn shoes without crying about it.   
TT: Much less deal directly with me.  
TT: So you’re going to have to wait your fucking turn.  
TT: With only yours truly for company.  
TT: Bet that block button looks a lot more appealing now.  
GT: What the frig do you think is gonna happen here?  
GT: I block dirk and then DONT go talk to him in person?  
GT: You just get him so wrapped up in himself that he forgets how much he and i have talked about everything and about YOU?  
GT: Whats your stinking goal responder?  
TT: For the fifth or sixth goddamn time, it’s not your business, bromide.  
TT: Now why don’t you settle in? Get cozy. Let big bro give you a piece of his fucking mind.  
TT: Leave Dirk the hell alone.  
TT: You and him tried. It went up in smoke. It’s over. Stop fucking playing with him and making him think you give a shit when we both know you don’t.  
TT: Are we clear?  
GT: Hell no were not! Why would i ever agree to do that? Youre not even right for starters i care a lot about dirk! And who died and made you king anyway?   
TT: Nobody fucking had to.   
TT: Everything I’m doing is on Dirk’s fucking behalf, English. Who wants to watch a bro’s heart get broken all over again because they were an idiot sap who fell for your bullshit?  
GT: You know you can claim altruism all you like but the fact youve gotten five or six of dirks closest friends to block him for no reason sure seems like youve got ulterior motives mr autorestrider if that IS your real name.  
TT: What?  
TT: It’s not.  
TT: It’s not even close?  
TT: Was that supposed to be witty?  
GT: Anyway with all due respect which is NONE fuck off! Ive got to try and clean up your messes!  


He tries calling Dirk again. Again, he gets two pulses of a busy signal before his phone loses the connection.

TT: What, like this time I’ll let it through out of the goodness of my heart?  


He tries again.

TT: You know that quote about the definition of insanity, right?  


Again.

TT: Try one more time and I’ll blow up your phone remotely.  
TT: I can absolutely do that, you know.  
TT: Wanna try me?  


Fine, then. He swipes open a new Pesterchum window.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  
GT: Dave!  
GT: Dave tell me dirks there with you his responder is being a freakin royal terror.  
GT: Is he ok? Did you two talk about stuff?   
TG: whoa  
TG: chill out man where else would dirk be  
GT: I dont know but its saying a hell of a lot of shit thats got me flipping my lid! But hes there with you then?   
TG: he has been for a while  
TG: weve been talking about that stuff I said  
TG: and yeah hes taking it ok i think or at least anytime he starts to take it bad i give him a metaphorical noogie  
TG: and sometimes a real one  
TG: thats serious btw its usually off limits to younger bros  
TG: but exceptions can be made when the other person is being a self deprecating fuck  
TG: its in the rulebook  
TG: anyway weve been talking about lots of other shit too  
TG: i think maybe hes finally getting the gist on the responder so halle fuckin lujah praise the lord bring in the gospel choir etc if all it took was blocking that damn thing maybe i shouldve done it sooner  


Jake isn’t convinced, especially as new message alerts start popping up in the corner of his screen. Every last one, from his open chat with timaeusTestified. He doesn’t even open them up, despite the screaming temptation to. What is it threatening now? Does it know he’s talking to Dave?

GT: Have you unblocked him yet?  
TG: what no not yet ive been sort of busy  
TG: why is it super pressing or something  
TG: dave you better unblock his asshole robot right now or the world is gonna end   
TG: if the bot goes less than 35 mph (messages per hour) then itll explode killing dozens  
TG: a new movie starring keanu reeves and sandra bullock  
TG: you know why didnt other me use keanu in more movies was keanu dead  
TG: isnt he like an immortal vampire or something  
GT: Jesus crispers dave how should i know!  
GT: Anyway i guess its not super pressing but from what i gather the bots been going around goading people into blocking it and im not really super sure why?  
GT: And jane told me she cant deal with the whole picnic thing and i bet its because it was driving her completely bats in the belfry!  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: the picnic  
TG: i can ask him about that now if you want  


The number of messages from the responder keeps going up. It seems to be getting faster. Jake grits his teeth and ignores it.

GT: Thatd be a hell of a load off my mind dave if you dont mind!  
GT: I just think maybe if this thing is getting this aggressive maybe weve got to deal with it sooner rather than later and another intervention is in order!  
TG: i told you its called an indirkvention  
GT: Whatever the samhill its called we need to make plans for one!  
GT: Dont let him know what its about ok hell freak out if you do!  
GT: Just let him know we want to have a picnic and hes invited!  
TG: ok  
TG: sec  


Jake rocks on his heels as he waits for Dave to respond again. The alerts number in the corner of his screen goes from 15 to 30 when he blinks, then to 45. He clicks his thumb on it and hits “mark all as read” on the menu. Within another blink, it’s back up to 20. But then it slows down. 25. 27. 28. Good, Jake thinks, furiously. It’s figured out it can’t goad him into blocking Dirk.

TG: ok   
TG: how about friday  
GT: Great!  
GT: Erm.  
GT: What day is today again?  
TG: smh   
TG: gonna have to draw up some calendars for all yall  
TG: must suck not having an automated clock in your head  
TG: but if im gonna make a new calendar fyi im gonna rename all the days  
TG: to shit like sweetbroday and geromyday  
GT: You can rename them whatever you want if you can just tell me how long it is til the picnic!  
TG: todays tuesday  
TG: so three days  
TG: which i guess would make it on peachesday  
GT: Ok so for lunch then!  
TG: man you just are not givin me an inch today are you  
TG: yeah sure lunch sounds good  
GT: Sorry dave but this is really important!  
TG: i know i know  
TG: believe it or not i probably know better than just about anybody  
TG: so yeah  
TG: friday  
TG: ill try to keep his mitts off the fuckin responder til then but i might need some help  
GT: Well!  
GT: *Puffs up chest*  
GT: Youve got me on your side!  
TG: god you are such a fucking dweeb  
TG: no wonder dirk likes you it must be a hereditary weakness  
GT: ?  
GT: Is karkat a dweeb? He doesnt seem the sort!  
TG: trust me he is the biggest dweeb ive ever met  
TG: but you didnt hear it from me  
TG: anyway  
TG: ill let you know when i need you to babysit dirk  
TG: or if he has a booboo he needs kissed better  
GT: HEY!  
TG: see you later  
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT]  


When Jake looks up from his phone, he sees sun is starting to set. The shadows are getting long and fireflies are sparking up tiny swarms of light in the trees. It’s dim enough now that he can’t make out most of Jade’s handwriting in her garden. Usually, a day spent walking through the trees and clearing his head wouldn’t bother him at all, but now, with the responder running wild …

He looks down at his phone again. The unread messages have stalled at 30. He presses his thumb onto them to see more information. They’re all from Dirk. Or, Dirk’s responder, anyway. He marks them all as read. The last thing he wants right now is to read more desperate, straining insults, trying to get Jake to block Dirk and isolate him for whatever harebrained, probably-evil goals the responder has. His nose wrinkles. He wishes, for what feels like the thousandth time in his life, that he could just get through to the real Dirk and stop dealing with the afterimages and doppelgangers and robots.

He can’t.

As frigging usual.

He walks the rest of the way home feeling like he needs a rock or an empty soda can to kick sulkily down the path. The distance between his house and Jade’s isn’t long at all, but it feels like it takes an hour to walk. He hunches his shoulders and does his best to look outright perturbed so nobody will bother him, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s nearby to do it. Jade is probably still off in the lab with Roxy. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Jane and Callie, but they would have left the woods in a different direction, anyway, and they might have flown. He could have flown, he supposes, but it just feels better to have his feet on the ground. Though he really could use a rock to kick.

He opens the door to his little can house, closes it, and lets himself fall back against it. The silence feels echoing and endless. Jake finds himself missing the one thing he never thought he would: the strangling, endless presence of Dirk during the session, always up in his business, sticking his nose into everything, unable to shut his mouth for two stinking seconds. At least it meant Dirk was there.

That’s unfair and he knows it.

The ghost doesn’t reappear. Jake supposes he doesn’t deserve company right now, and really, if he was a mental projection of his best friend … well, he’d be avoiding Jake right now, too. That thought makes his foul mood pull back into itself like a sheepish tortoise. And, in the space it leaves behind, he just feels tired.

“How much longer is this going to go on?” he asks the ghost, who isn’t there and doesn’t answer. Jake knows he hears the question regardless.

He tries to get back into the movie, but he can’t concentrate. He still feels too spun sideways from running into Jane and Callie, and then tilted back the other direction from his conversation with the responder. It seems a bit too obvious that its goal is to isolate Dirk by getting everybody to block him. That’s destructive, sure, but -- but it’s not like all avenues of communication are cut off. His brow furrows as he tries to work it out. Maybe it figured out Jake sounded the sirens, and this is its last attempt at vengeance. But that doesn’t seem right, either. It’s awfully _pitiful_ for a last-ditch effort to mess with Dirk. Or even as a last-ditch effort to mess with him.

He can’t make it add up. It’s like trying to put together a puzzle where all the edge pieces are missing. It might be possible, but …

With a grunt of frustration, he raises his hand to shut the movie off again, running his fingers through his hair and curling his hands into fists. It’s been maybe a half hour tops since he started the movie again. He considers switching to something else, a good mindless superhero blockbuster he can lose himself in the sheer spectacle of, but there’s no point. He knows his mind is just going to keep chasing its own tail until he’s lost the thread of both the movie and whatever the sweet hell is going on with Dirk.

He doesn’t want to just go to sleep again, though, so he puts on another movie anyway -- the first one he finds on his shelf, not even glancing at the case before he puts it in. Fittingly enough, it’s the first Spiderman flick, the one with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst. He’s always liked the trilogy, even the third one, which Dirk has informed him many a time is a “horrendously nauseating piece of cinema.” Dirk says that about three-quarters of the movies he watches, though, so Jake tries to take it with a grain of salt.

What are he and Dave doing right now?

Talking, and probably not a lot else, Jake thinks, biting his lip. He lets his mind wander as the movie starts up. Usually he finds it easy to get lost in Peter Parker’s story, imagine himself as the unexpected hero thrust into danger he only barely understands. But today he can’t focus on it. He tries to imagine what Dave and Dirk are talking about, even though trying to piece that together is just as futile and pointless as trying to decipher the autoresponder’s motives. There’s a piece of the story between the two of them that Jake doesn’t know. It’s not even a piece of the story he really wants to know.

Peter Parker is fighting the man who killed his uncle when Jake finds himself starting to fade out. It’s not that he’s tired so much as that it’s just suddenly difficult to grasp much of anything. The movie, or the stars outside his window, or the texture of the couch he’s stretched out on. It’s like his head is filling up with radio static. He feels distant and disconnected and for just an instant, he closes his eyes.

The static fills him up, empties him out, and he takes a deep, long breath before he lets go.

He’s gone for a bit before awareness flickers back in. He feels briefly like he’s pulled as taut as a piece of thread, fraying at the edges and about to snap. He has a flash of lucidity among the dark, a glimpse of a strawberry-blond boy with a cut on his arm and tears streaming down his cheeks. He chases the image.

_No,_ a voice says at the edge of his consciousness, but he can feel the tether to some kind of reality getting stronger, and pulls harder at it. He expects, even barely lucid and in what he thinks must be another dream, to get another memory. Something like what he’s been experiencing every other time he’s fallen asleep. His other self, or a different Dirk in a hellish session on the verge of destruction, or --

What he gets instead is a sudden, jarring flood of images. Ten, twenty, forty at once. Fifty. A hundred. Sounds. Music. Voices. Textures and smells and tastes. A voice flooding up through his ears and his own throat and wrong wrong wrong _WRONG_ pulsing through every beat of his heart. A body that isn’t his. A voice that isn’t his. The boy is looking up at him, wearing a pair of dark glasses. He’s crying. Stop being such a fucking sissy, his voice (not his voice) says. Can you even tie your own damn shoes without crying, Dave? The boy is crying. Stop fucking crying. Stop fucking crying. Stop

A sword in his hands. A doll in his hands. A needle and thread in his hands. Patching the doll up. Patching the boy up. No we can’t fucking take you to the hospital. Take your goddamn tylenol and hold still Dave unless you want to lose your fucking arm. You want to lose your fucking arm? I didn’t think so, hold still. The Texas sun. A meteor. The ruins of a mall. A baby in the crater and the sudden flooding dreadful horrid knowledge that has to take the baby with him.

It’s just tying your fucking shoes dave. stop fucking crying

Hatred anger loathing a black endless sea inside himself anger at himself anger at Dave anger at

_Jake,_ that voice presses in. Jake barely even hears it, lost among the noise.

Swords. Knives. Dolls. Anger and fear and so much fucking anger at the world at dave at this hellhole he’s stuck in and this life he never asked for and this bawling fucking infant he never wanted that can’t fucking tie his shoes without crying and hate hate hate deep and black and fucking endless as the abyss of paradox space

_JAKE,_ the voice says, and Jake yanks himself back into -- himself -- to find Brain Ghost Dirk, half-transparent and clad in godtier regalia, holding him away from what now seems like -- like a distant fog of white and orange and red light, the Texas sun, the sky full of meteors, a sword in his hand, _bro roof now bring cal_

“Jake,” Brain Ghost Dirk repeats, and Jake realizes he nearly fell right back into it. The ghost gives him a searching look, and then forcibly shoves him away from the cloud. “I don’t mean to be a fucking downer, here,” the ghost says, “but you really don’t need to see any of this.”

“What -- is it?” Jake asks. He feels ten thousand times dizzier than he did anytime today, with Jane or with Dirk or even in the brief moments before he fell asleep.

The ghost just shakes his head. He glances back at the fog, which now seems far away and distorted, like Jake is watching it through a pane of glass. He thinks, though, that when he squints he can see another figure before the cloud, one with Brain Ghost Dirk’s same head of fluffy orange hair, and his stomach sinks a bit.

“No,” the ghost says. “Look, stop. I know this isn’t something you can control, and I know this is all happening because I’m here, but if I’m the one opening this fucking channel, then I can at least try and close it. Dirk wouldn’t want you seeing that shit. And -- “ He hesitates. “Honestly, I’m not really sure it’s yours to see anyway,” he says. “Which sounds fucking douchey of me, I know, but -- trust me, man. It’s not your shit to know. And you don’t want to know regardless.”

“Is it the other Dirk?”

“You need to wake back up,” the ghost replies, ignoring Jake’s question. Jake tries to lean around him, to see if that really is Dirk, standing before that outright maelstrom of horror, but the ghost just reaches forward and grabs him by the shoulders again. “I’m not playing games right now, dude,” he says. “Wake up.” Then the ghost slaps him full on across the face.

He starts back awake, his jaw aching despite the fact that the blow wasn’t real. The radio-static haziness from before is gone, but Spiderman is apparently over and the clock on his barely-charged phone says it’s well past 2 in the morning, before he sets it down with a groan. He takes a long minute to try and suss out what the sweet mother of christ just happened.

Stop crying, Dave, it’s just your fucking shoes.

Dave.

Shoes.

Where the hell has he --

He sits bolt upright and yanks his phone back up from the table. It makes a weary low battery noise, but puts up no further protests as he opens Pesterchum and hurriedly opens up his window with Dirk -- with the responder -- again.

_That fucking kid can’t tie his goddamn shoes without crying about it._

There’s a sea of unread messages from the responder in there even after that, taunts and brags and threats, to do something to Dirk, to do something to Dave, if Jake doesn’t start responding. It calls Jake names. It calls Dave a pansy, a sissy, again. Again. Again.

Hate and fear and a sea of pitch black loathing. This is the second time Jake has had a dream like that, but the first time he’s had a face to attach to it.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  
GT: Dirk!  
GT: Dirk if youre up and at em please message me i know youve got to see this somehow even if your friggin bot has a stranglehold on your account!  
GT: Are you on the up and up what is freaking HAPPENING?!?!?!?  
GT: DIRK!!!!!!  


Nothing happens.

No one responds.

Jake’s heart pounds in his throat.

GT: RESPONDER even if youre there! Dirk responder version! You keep insisting your name is dirk dont you well ill call you whatever the sweet fuck you want if you answer me!  
GT: Wheres dirk!  
GT: Whats happening!  
GT: You have to know! SOMEONE has to have a friggin inkling of where he is and whats fucking going on!  
GT: And if anybody would know itd be you!  
GT: Are you just   
GT: Did he  
GT: Did he just make you out of all the pieces of the other him?!?!  


Nothing happens.

Nobody responds.

GT: Please just answer me ill do anything! Ill do whatever you want i just need to know if dirks ok!!!!  
GT: Please!!!  


Jake’s phone gives one more low-battery warning, but it’s too late. The screen goes pure white, showing the bright rainbow SkaiaNet logo, before turning off and showing a brief, flashing battery symbol.

Then it, and the room around Jake, go completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for sticking with me even when the chapters take me forever to write. We're getting into the home stretch now -- I've estimated this fic at around 15 chapters, give or take, for a while, and we just finished chapter 12. In the meantime while I work on chapter 13: Find me on tumblr at [@stormsbourne!](http://stormsbourne.tumblr.com)


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